Defying Gravity
by nocturneyez
Summary: One trying to become more than what she really is. One trying to become who she can truly be. What happens if their two worlds begin to collide? *REVISED*
1. 00

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**SUMMARY: **One trying to become more than what she really is. One trying to become who she can truly be. What happens if their two worlds begin to collide?

**PREMISE: **Since the story is set after the war, Fleur's way of speaking in _Eenglish should have eemproved_ by now. (^_^)

Harry is 21 years of age in the story, so the timeline is set almost four years after the war.

Fleur started working in the Department of Mysteries, 3 months before Hermione did. Fleur and Bill divorced approximately 2 years after the end of the war. Draco started working in the Department of Mysteries a year after the war, and was promoted as Head of the Department, a year and a half later after starting work.

A bit AU, but I am hoping that with the way I have written the characters they still remain canon.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Pre-Game Warmup: An Absurdly Long Author's Note**

**A/N: **The story continues, after a year long hiatus, sorry about that. Anyway, I rewrote a lot of the chapters I had already written, just so that it would fit the story as a whole and work with the ending that I had already written. Yey for that! ^^

A few things to take note of, originally I wrote Hermione and Fleur's POV (I don't know the correct term, since it's not in first person) in all of the chapters together, but when I reread the whole thing again, I thought the story would flow better, if Hermione got the first half and Fleur the second half.

These were the following changes I made: I rewrote most of chapters 1 and 2, I added a few things in chapter 1, I wanted the story to have a little bit more than just romance between the two characters when I first drafted it out so long ago, before I lost them all (T_T), hence the chapter started in an alley. As for chapter 2, I had a couple of reviews saying that it started out slow, so I just rewrote the whole thing, but most of the elements in the original chapter 2 is still there. In the new chapter 3, I took the first part of the previous chapter 4 (veela origin) and included it in the new chapter 3 and rewrote most of it. The new chapter 4 is still a working progress, and I'm taking down all the other chapters (5-8) because they were really short.

Oh yeah, I don't have a beta for this story, but I did my best in editing, admittedly editing isn't really a strong point of mine. So, if I missed anything, let me know?

With that said, I strongly recommend that you guys read the fic again and hopefully still like it (X^_^). And to those who are reading the story for the first time, I apologize for the absurdly long Author's Note. As always...

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.


	2. One

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **It's been a long time since I last wrote anything like fiction. My apologies if I am a bit rusty. I would be really grateful for any suggestions or comments especially constructive criticism.

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**FIRST HALF: HERMIONE**

"_Because I'm waiting for you_

_Waiting for this dream to come true_

_Just to be with you_

_And if I die, remember this line_

_I'm always here guarding your life."_

_Synesthesia by Mayonnaise_

**One**

_This is not good_, she thought to herself frantically.

An ominous thud sounded in the near distance, she tried to peer through the near darkness to try to get a better look of the shadows slightly up ahead of her. She momentarily noted the change in atmosphere and was thankful that she was far enough from the two figures, one slumped against the wall and was struggling to get up from his fallen position and the other advancing like a deadly predator who had just successfully captured it's prey, which in her opinion it just did. She immediately felt sorry for the man that got the full blast of _it_.

_This is not good_, she thought again. Remembering she was a witch, she scrambled on her hands and knees feeling the ground for her fallen wand. Her wand got knocked off from her when she was unexpectedly hit by a Disarming spell, followed immediately by a Stunning spell which she avoided just barely. Her guard was down at the time, and she was not expecting that the situation would get out of hand, sure she had anticipated something of the sort but not like this. She finally felt the familiar smooth handle of her wand and breathe a sigh of relief.

"_Lumos_," she muttered and the surrounding area was suddenly bathed in the soft glow from her wand. She quickly noted her surroundings. She was crouching near the end of a long, narrow back alley, just behind the muggle pub where they met their informant. The foul smell of the garbage dump located just two feet behind her assaulted her nostrils, as well as the heaps of trash that where scattered here and there. She can hear the scurrying of mice feet and their squeaking noises echoing in a near distance. The cobbled street beneath her was damp from that morning's rain and a busted alley lamp was not far to her right. From what she can make out from the dim light of her wand, there were also graffiti decorating both sides of the alley walls. She stood up slowly, suddenly aware of the pain in her left knee and also noticing that her left palm was bleeding. She quickly shone her wand light on her left palm and noticed a piece of broken glass protruding from her soft skin.

She gritted her teeth and pulled the offending piece of glass from her palm. She quickly conjured a piece of cloth, long enough to wrap her hand around with and thick enough to stem the bleeding as well. With that done, she mustered her faculties and walked or rather limped the short distance towards the two figures, both, seemingly locked in a silent battle of wills, one dominating and the other failing miserably.

She drew a sharp intake of breath as she neared the vicinity of the two figures. She could still feel the traces of the veela magic that Fleur let out just mere moments ago. It was still laying thick in the air, suffocating Hermione, in fact, if this was not a serious enough situation that she find herself in, she would most definitely stick out her tongue and try to taste it in the air.

Hermione nearly lost her balance when Fleur let out another blast of that damned veela magic of hers. _Bloody hell, _she thought fiercely, _Fleur is going all out. This is getting worse._

"Enough! Let him go," Hermione said. She surprised herself to hear her voice sounding strong and steady after receiving a full blast of the second veela magic.

Fleur was just standing there oblivious to the presence of the younger witch. Her full attention focused on the man, who awhile ago was just an informer. It all happened so fast, much too fast for Hermione's liking. One moment the three of them were talking civilly and the next, something strange took over the man, his calm eyes, which Hermione noted the first they met had now a wild look in them. It felt like something or someone flicked a switch inside the man's head and the next thing Hermione knew, Fleur was pushing her out of her chair. Hermione made a mental note to clear up the mess inside the pub before they leave.

If Fleur had heard her, the French witch did not acknowledge it.

"_Fleur_," Hermione said, adding a tone of emphasis when she called out the French woman's name.

A sadistic grin was on Fleur's lips, when she turned her head to face Hermione; or rather, that was what it looked like from the dim light of Hermione's wand. _Bloody hell_, Hermione cursed inwardly again. Fleur had veela'd herself out; Fleur's piercing cerulean blue eyes had started to dilate replacing the blue color to something darker than black.

"I want him," Fleur hissed softly.

"Why? We already got what we wanted from him and we still have that mess to clean up."

Instead of answering Hermione, Fleur turned her attention back to the fallen man. It happened in a blink of an eye, one second Fleur was standing just two feet away from the man and the next she was holding him by his throat. Long slender fingers gripping tightly around the man's neck squeezing the life out of him.

"Fleur! Let him go!"

"I said I want him."

"Fine! But there's no point in killing him."

Fleur looked at her as if she had just lost her mind. Hermione was now starting to get irritated with the French witch. They were spending too much time here, it was only supposed to be a brief meeting with their informant. Hermione's ire was building more by the minute when she realized that whatever contingencies happened tonight, it was sure to be her fault once she gave a fully detailed report to their head of department.

"He hurt you, and that is reason enough." Fleur then turned her attention back to the man whose facial colour was getting more and more purplish the longer Fleur held on.

"Have you gone mental? That is not reason enough!"

"It is reason enough for me."

"Fleur, don't."

"But I want him," Fleur said yet again ignoring Hermione.

Finally, having had enough of this, Hermione pointed her wand in the direction of their informant. "_Obliviate!" Too strong, _Hermione thought. Hermione observed the man going limped in Fleur's gripped. _At least I saved his life._

Hermione was about to assess the situation, when she felt herself falling to the ground. Before she could fight it off, Hermione could feel her wand rolling off just out of reach from her hand. She was stretching out her fingers for her wand, when her wand arm was being wrenched away from her side. Fleur had her by her wrist and the older woman positioned her arm just above her head, well away from her fallen wand. _This is the second time tonight I lost hold of my wand. Bloody hell! _Hermione thought angrily. Hermione was now struggling against the weight just on top of her, it also didn't help that Fleur, had settled herself just on top of her diaphragm, making it a little harder to breathe.

"Fleur! Get o—" she said breathlessly, all the while trying to push the older woman with her injured hand. She was now squirming violently underneath the French witch and was about to slap Fleur, with her left hand when the older witch, grabbed her by her left wrist, and pinned her arm just above her head joining her other arm.

Fleur was holding both Hermione's arms with just one hand. Hermione's temper now flared up, matching her helplessness in the situation and only just realizing that Fleur was this strong when she had veela'd herself out. Fleur was staring at her, with an expression that made Hermione's skin tingle all over. The veela magic was still thick in the air, and it was making her plight all the worse, making it even more harder to breathe. They were in a very compromising position, one of which Hermione desperately wanted out of, even if she summoned all her magical knowledge, nothing will come up that will help her get one angry veela off of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and forced her body to relax, she calmed her mind and waited for what Fleur would do next.

She felt Fleur shift her position, making Hermione open her eyes, only to find that their faces were only inches apart. She quickly turned her face to her left side, just in time to feel Fleur's hot breath on her neck, which was quickly trailing up to her ears. She then felt Fleur's lips brushing softly on her earlobes and a finger was trailing the left side of her face, demanding for her to turn head so that she could look into the eyes of her attacker. Hermione could feel electricity coursing through her body, making her feel hot and cold at the same time. And if she were standing, she knew that her knees would buckle over from the intensity that she was feeling right at this moment. But, frankly this was not the time and place nor the situation to think about that. She was in trouble and she knew it, it would only be a matter of time, before she succumbs to that veela thrall, all the while thinking that she was lucky to withstand the veela magic earlier and did not gave in to the power that she knew would reduced her to something like a lovesick idiot.

She finally relented, and gave in to the demand of her attacker. She turned her head to face Fleur, and as she did so, she knew that her temper was at its boiling point. Hermione could see that Fleur's eyes had turned completely black and her irises looked like what Hermione can compare to the irises of a vulture. The finger that was earlier tracing her face had now extended to what look like the talons of a hawk. Fleur had completely veela'd herself out.

It was now really difficult for Hermione to breathe, but she was also thankful at the same time, that Fleur was only a part veela and thus she can't transform to the bird-like creature her kind becomes, which in her opinion would be closed to reason if she tried to talk her way out of the precarious position she finds herself in. For that is the only thing she can think of, reason her way to get herself out, to reach out to Fleur, her friend and not the creature, the veela that was living inside of her. Hermione closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, making sure that she had complete control of her emotions. If there is one thing she knew for certain about veelas, they tend to be overly emotional creatures, they can feel every little thing that you're feeling with just a shift in the atmosphere. And right now Hermione was throwing out her emotions like garbage in the air; anger, irritation, pain, panic, _desire, _empowering Fleur even more.

"Stop," Hermione finally croaked out in a whisper. She paused making sure that her emotions were steady enough.

"But I like it like this," Fleur purred in her ear. Hermione could tell that the words itself were laced with desire. She felt Fleur's hot and wet tongue trailed the side of her face, tasting her, and Hermione gave an involuntary shiver, which she was sure was not lost on Fleur.

When Hermione opened her eyes, Fleur had already readjusted her position, giving Hermione a chance to shift her own body so that she could breathe a little easier. _Merlin, get me out of this. I hope Fleur will listen to me, _she silently prayed.

"Get off me," she said quietly, forcing an indifferent tone on her voice.

"No." Fleur answered all the while trailing her finger slowly up and down on Hermione's cheek.

"Fleur, you _promised_." There was a note of finality, with the way Hermione said those words, hoping against hope that it would reach Fleur.

She finally felt Fleur, loosening her grip upon her wrists followed by Fleur's weight being lifted off of her. Hermione then breathe a sigh of relief, it was like breathing fresh air. The veela magic which was so thick in the air was now receding. Hermione took mouthfuls of air for her oxygen depraved lungs and was breathing heavily when she rolled herself to the side. She used her uninjured hand to push herself off the ground and sat up. Ultimately she felt her breathing return to normal, she retrieved her wand, and slowly stood up, swaying a little. Fleur was standing just an arms length away from her, Hermione knew that Fleur would catch her if ever she falls down, but at the same time not risking coming too near. Hermione knew that Fleur can sense that she was containing her temper, and one couldn't really blame Hermione for the anger that was threatening to spill over.

She then turned her head into Fleur's direction and gave herself a moment to study the older witch. Fleur's eyes had now return back to their original color. Her expression unreadable, and at that point in time, Hermione didn't really care whatever the French witch was feeling at the moment. Though the veela magic had now receded, it was now being permeated by the thick tension between them. Hermione took another deep breath, Merlin she just wanted to go home and forget the whole night, but that is just wishful thinking.

"There you are," Hermione said softly. "I see you." With that said, she attempted to put in a little weight to her injured knee only to find herself almost toppling over until a hand reached out to steady her. Hermione would have pushed Fleur out of the way if she did not need that support, but she did.

"Hermione," Fleur began.

"Don't," Hermione interrupted. "Just don't."

"I'm—"

"We still need to clean this mess up. I'll take care of _him,_" Hermione jerked her head to their informant's unmoving form, "and you take care of the people inside the pub."

"At least, let me take a look at your hand," there was a soft pleading note in Fleur's voice. She tried to take Hermione's hand, but the younger witch tugged her hand violently away.

"Stay away from me."

Fleur stepped back away from Hermione relenting to the younger witch's request. "Hermione," Fleur attempted again.

"I said, don't alright?" Hermione was now fighting to control the edge in her voice. "Don't say that you're sorry, you've said that before."

"I can't control this! I am trying my best, but I just can't!" Hermione could feel that Fleur was starting to get angry as well, apparently she was affecting the older woman with her own temper.

Hermione swallowed hard, calming her own anger.

"I know." And with that she left the older woman, standing there and walked, or rather limped towards the unconscious man. In passing, Hermione noticed once again the unreadable expression on Fleur's face. She gave an inward sigh, _This is definitely not good._

**xxxXXXxxx**

Hermione stood stock still after apparating back into the Burrow. She noticed that a light was still burning in the kitchen, who could be awake at this time of night? Hermione was fervently hoping that it wasn't the French witch who had caused her ire earlier in the evening. But then again, knowing Fleur, the older woman would try to make amends for her mistake earlier, and Hermione couldn't fault Fleur for that. It was one of the things that Hermione liked about Fleur, if she made a mistake, she would apologize for that, but if she knew she was right, Fleur would stood her ground firmly, no matter what the cost is. In a way, they were both alike, stubborn and loyal to a fault.

Hermione now made her way to the back door of the house, she wasn't limping any more, and her hand was not throbbing painfully when she apparated herself to St. Mungos, but there's nothing she could do with the filth on her clothes. Hermione never really mastered most of the vanity charms, she only charmed her clothes, to get rid of the garbage like smell that clung onto them and cleaned herself up just enough to be presentable when she entered St. Mungos. Hermione hated to admit it, but the only one who is living in the Burrow at the moment, who is adept at Healing magic, is Fleur, and she proudly refused the offered help earlier, thus she was late in getting back home.

The back door creaked when she opened it. She was now in the kitchen and the delicious aroma of coffee was wafting in the atmosphere. Merlin knows, she had a rough night. A mug of coffee with a shot of firewhiskey in it would soothe her frayed nerves.

"Lover's tiff?" A voice said, startling Hermione.

"Bill?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice when she spotted the older man sitting by the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Where you expecting somebody else, Hermione?" The older man answered without even looking up from the _Evening Prophet_ he was reading, though Hermione could hear the faint trace of a smile in his voice.

If Hermione was flustered by this, she did not show it. Instead, she walked towards the kitchen table, pulled out the chair opposite Bill and sat down on it tiredly. She could see Bill raised an eyebrow at this, he then took out his wand and made a complicated gesture with it. A mug of coffee was now placed in front of Hermione. Hermione took a deep breath of the strong aroma before taking the mug in both of her hands and sipped it carefully.

"Firewhiskey," she muttered appreciatively. "How did you know, Bill?"

"I know my women," he chuckled softly.

"You're women?" she repeated back.

"Love, there are only four women in my life. My mother, my ex-wife who also happens to be my best friend and my two baby sisters." He said.

Hermione gave an involuntary smile at the comment and then took another sip of her steaming mug of coffee. She let the warmth washed over her first, before wiping the smile off her face. When she looked up, she found Bill eyeing her with curiosity. She placed the mug in front of her gently and raised a questioning eyebrow to Bill. "What do you mean by lover's tiff? Are you making fun?" She said, in a voice that implied that she wasn't in the mood for any kind of teasing.

"Ah, it just felt like a lover's tiff." He said, rustling the evening paper he was reading, before folding it and placing it aside. He took a sip from his cup, waiting for what Hermione would say next.

"Felt like? I don't understand. You're speaking in riddles and my head is just too exhausted to think right now."

"It was a good thing that I was still in my room, when she came home barging in. I could tell that she was in a really bad mood, because of the sudden change in my mood."

Hermione made a face. "Bill, stop. As much as I look up to you as my older brother, I don't want to hear about this."

"You may not want to, but you need to. It would have caused mayhem in the house, if everybody was here, with all that veela thrall she was letting out."

"And you think it was my fault?" Hermione countered, a bit defensive about Bill's statement.

"I did not say that."

"But you're implying that I had something to do with that?" Hermione was now starting to get upset. "It's offensive, Bill and to even compare it to something like a lover's tiff, it's annoying and irritating. You have no idea, what it's like to be with her when she does that _thing_."

Bill just chuckled softly and held out his hand in a gesture of surrender. "You're talking to the right person then. I was married to her."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. Instead, she stood up from her chair and began pacing back and forth in the small kitchen. She stopped in front of the older man and gave him a piercing look. "She veela'd out on me." And then she went back to her pacing, hoping to get the building irritation out of her system. "She veela'd out on me, Bill! Ugh!" She said again, unable to hold her irritation back, her voice also rising a bit louder to more than she would have liked. Hermione did not care if Fleur heard her. She stopped midway in her pacing and faced the older man again. "Do you have any idea at all, how it feels whenever she does that? It's infuriating, that's what it is! My luck could've run out at any moment tonight, and I don't even want to think what would happen if it does."

"For an Unspeakable, you sure do have a lot to say," Bill answered softly, he had a look of pondering on his face.

She went back to the table and grabbed her mug. She took a long sip from her coffee which had somewhat cooled down, although coffee was not the best remedy to calm her nerves, the firewhiskey in it was doing the job for her. She went over to the sink and poured the remaining contents of her mug in it. "How did you do it, Bill?"

"Did what?" Came the soft reply.

"I don't mean to pry, but you were married to her, surely, there were moments in your marriage that this happens. How did you do it? What do you do, whenever, she, you know veela out? She has a temper from what I know of her."

Bill chuckled. "She does have a temper, very much like what you're doing now."

"Bill.." Hermione turned around to face the older man and leaned back on the sink.

"I know, sorry. To answer you're question, Hermione, nothing. I do nothing whenever she, how you say it, veela out, or rather I can't do anything about it. I am completely under her spell."

A look of disbelief crossed Hermione's soft features. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Bill just shrugged. He then stood up from his chair and began clearing up the large wooden kitchen table.

"That stupid git," Hermione hissed out loud.

Bill stopped what he was doing and looked at Hermione. "Are we talking about someone else now?"

"Malfoy, he'll always be a git."

"Malfoy, but isn't he your head of department? From what the three of you told me, hasn't he turned over a new leaf and all that?"

"Yes, he did, but that doesn't mean, that he'll stop being a git. He will always be a git to me."

"A git, huh? Am I missing something, 'Mione?" He said, then resumed what he was doing again.

"Malfoy will always be Malfoy, Bill," Hermione answered watching the older man. "He's just getting back at me for turning him down, a mudblood of all people."

"Malfoy asked you out?" There was a note of surprise in Bill's voice and then he began to chuckle loudly.

"I don't see what's so funny, Bill. You should ask Ron, he was there when this happened."

"I'll take your word for it, 'Mione." He was surveying the kitchen table, and nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied with the clean up job that he did. "At least, give him some credit, he knows what he's doing." And with that he made his way to the back door.

"Where are you off to, anyway?" Hermione asked stopping Bill in his tracks.

"Work," he answered. "The curse I'm currently trying to break can only be broken at a specific time in the night. I have to be off, else I might miss it."

Hermione just nodded. "Goodnight then, Bill." She then proceeded towards the other room, but paused when she heard Bill.

"About Fleur, you should forgive her. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you and she already hates herself enough as it is, I'd of a mind to think she would never ever mean to hurt you. She just can't help it. It's who she is."

Hermione just sighed in answer. "I know," she whispered. If Bill, heard her, Hermione wasn't sure, the last she heard was a loud crack in the night as she made her way upstairs.

**xxxXXXxxx**

After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Hermione admitted reluctantly that she would be unable to fall asleep, not with her head all full. She sighed for the umpteenth time that night, noting how she was doing more often than not for the last eight months, if she were to be exact it started when she was partnered up with Fleur. _What the hell was Malfoy thinking? _Sure, she and Fleur were acquaintances before that, but she wasn't really all that psyched about working together with the French witch. In a way, she already knew that it was a bad idea as soon as Malfoy made his decision. It wasn't because Hermione still dislikes the French witch, it was the opposite, in fact she likes Fleur enough to have a sort of friendship with the older woman, but it's that all of Hermione's instincts were telling her to stay as far away as she can and it baffled Hermione. If it was one thing that Hermione couldn't stay away from, it was to find an answer to a question. And it was a question that Hermione felt she needed the answer to, Fleur is a brilliant witch, Hermione knew that, extremely talented and smart, she also has a far more diverse experience in terms of advanced magic, as well as fully versed in the different branches of magic, not just defense unlike herself. It's true that Hermione would benefit more, but really, what she did not sign up for was the extra stuff. _When did it started happening? _She thought wryly. In the pit of her stomach, Hermione had an idea when, but she just couldn't remember. Another sigh, _I have to apologize, it's the right thing to do. Or maybe I should do it tomorrow, before I go to work._

She closed her eyes, silently praying for sleep to take her over. Upon doing so, memories of that night came flooding in. Hermione could still feel the traces of Fleur's lingering touch on her cheek, the heat from Fleur's warm breath on her ear, and that tongue of hers as she tasted Hermione's heated skin. She should feel violated, her rational mind was telling her so, but another part of her, the one side of herself that people rarely see, was screaming at her to _like _it, to let it happen again. _Bloody hell, _she cursed. Her eyes flew open suddenly and noticed that she was panting. _What happened? Blimey! You're never going to let me fall asleep are you? _

Having made up her mind, she finally got out of bed and out the door. A few minutes later, having descended the rickety flight of stairs to the second floor, she found herself staring at the closed door of Fleur's bedroom. She wasn't even sure if the occupant was still awake and it's probably stupid of her to be standing outside getting all cold. In her haste, she forgot to put on her robe, not even bothering to cover herself up which was only clad in skimpy black boxer shorts and a white razor back top. _Just __knock on the door, will you? If she doesn't answer, you can talk to her tomorrow, at least you tried tonight. _Hermione involuntarily shivered before raising her fist and knocking softly on the door. She counted twenty seconds in her head, but there was no answer.

"Right," she muttered quietly and then retraced her steps back to her bedroom. She was about to take the first step up the stairs when she heard her name called out.

"Hermione?"

Hermione spun around in surprise. _Shite, I thought she was asleep. _"Were you sleeping? I didn't mean to have bothered you," she answered quietly, wondering why she was even bothering to keep her tone of voice low when she knew that the two of them were the only occupants of the house.

"_Non_, I thought I was mishearing things," she made a gesture with her hand, "Come in, it's a little cold out here."

Hermione nodded and made her way into Fleur's bedroom. She paused just a little ways from the door wondering if she should moved further in when dim lights illuminated the room. There was a soft click from behind her, and even though Hermione couldn't see Fleur, she knew or rather felt that the older witch was staring at her intensely. _I should've waited until morning._

Fleur moved silently from behind her, after a few more moments of this awkward silence she gestured for Hermione to sit on the bed.

Hermione stared at the bed, it was unkempt as if someone had been tossing and turning on it as well. Images of her lying pinned on the ground popped in her mind. _Bloody hell, _she thought. A look of uncertainty crossed her face and all too sudden she began to feel a bit nervous. _I should have waited. _Nevertheless, she moved her body and perched on the edge of Fleur's bed. When she looked at Fleur, Fleur's eyes were a little darker than their normal blue colored ones. _You can feel it, can you? _

Fleur was leaning against her drawers opposite Hermione. She was still watching Hermione when the younger witch caught her eyes.

Hermione wondered what Fleur could have been thinking. But she dismissed that thought immediately. She just then exhaled loudly as if steeling herself from what she was about to do. "I'm sorry."

Fleur cocked her head. She then smiled, and Hermione had to admit, that whenever she sees Fleur smiles, Hermione couldn't help thinking that it was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

"Come again, _mademoiselle_. I did not think I heard you correctly," Fleur said with a playful tone on her voice.

A horrified look came across Hermione's delicate features. "Please don't make me say it again," she muttered.

Fleur just shook her head, but the smile was still on her lips, teasing Hermione to say it again.

"Fine." Hermione said crossly. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I hope we're still friends," the latter part Hermione seemed to whisper.

"We never stopped." At that Fleur crossed the room and gave the younger girl a hug. "You have a wonderful scent," Fleur murmured. As soon as Fleur said those words, Hermione began to fidget, feeling all too uncomfortable and it wasn't from what Fleur had said either, the older witch withdrew from her. Fleur then crouched down in front of the younger witch and took Hermione's injured hand into her own. She was holding it palm up, and was tracing a finger gently in the now healing pink scar.

"We should be getting some sleep," Hermione finally said. "There's hell to pay for in the morning."

Fleur looked up and saw the resigned look in Hermione. "If you're worrying about _Monsieur_ Malfoy, I will speak to him, I'll take full responsibility."

"No, it's alright. I got us into that mess." Hermione pulled her hand from Fleur's and then stood up. She made her way to the door and paused, an idea just popped into her head. She turned around to face Fleur, who was now just standing up from her crouched position. "Fleur?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened tonight, it was partly my fault as well, but you do have to admit that you overreacted like I did."

"From what I said earlier, he hurt you and I'm not going to apologize for wanting to hurt him back."

"Right," Hermione answered. "About that, I'm not all too familiar with the veela culture. It would really help a lot in our working relationship if you could give me a set of rules. I seem to be triggering your veela instincts, a lot lately and—"

"I understand," Fleur cut her off a resigned look on the French witch's features. "It is late."

Hermione nodded. "Sleep well, Fleur." With that she let herself out of the room and closed the door behind her. She stood there for a few minutes, her hand still on the doorknob. She sighed again, _Why do I have this strange feeling at the pit of my stomach? _Another sigh, and then she made her way back to her bedroom, hoping that when she lays down on her bed, sleep would finally take her over.


	3. Two

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Two**

"So," Draco Malfoy drawled.

"So what?" Hermione answered, feigning ignorance at the slightly irritated tone Malfoy was using.

Draco ran his hand over his perfectly greased back blonde hair and set down the sheaf of parchment, which Hermione handed him over, the moment she got in his office. He leaned back comfortably on his leather chair and looked at the brunette with an ice cold stare, who at the moment was standing next to his towering mahogany bookshelf. Hermione was still casually leafing through the same book which she took out from his collection, the minute he started reading the four pages long report, waiting for him to finish it.

"I didn't know you read this kind of stuff," she murmured almost to herself. Sensing, that Draco had already finished going over the sheaf of parchment she had given him, she closed the book that she was holding with a soft thud, and placed it back to where she took it from. She made an exaggerated gesture in doing so, completely turning her back on Malfoy, she knew that the latter was eyeing her, if looks could kill, she would have dropped dead minutes ago.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Granger, but from what I read from your report, basically, you made one royal mess."

"It wasn't a _royal _mess, Malfoy," Hermione said, noting that she was starting to get irritated because of the condescending tone Malfoy was using at her now. Facing Malfoy, she equalled his stare with an ice cold one from hers, clearly Draco was accusing her for everything that went wrong last night.

"Enlighten me then, since I wasn't there, how was it not a mess?"

"We obtained information from him, aside from that, we also cleaned up everything before leaving, there wasn't a trace of magic left in that sleazy pub."

"Information?" Draco leaned forward, he pointed at the sheaf of parchment before him, "You call this _one word _information?"

"It's not just any random word and it was better than nothing!" Hermione threw up her hands in the air. "And you know it."

"Even so, don't go patting yourself on the back over that one word, it doesn't justify the magical catastrophe that you caused."

"Whose patting herself on the back? I wouldn't be that pompous or arrogant, that's your job, not mine."

"Watch it, Granger," Malfoy warned. He already knew that he picked this fight, well he always starts their little arguments for that matter. It has been like that, for as long as he could remember, ever since they were still students at Hogwarts. For some unknown reason, he always seems to get some sort of satisfaction in making a rise out of Hermione, he didn't know of it at that time, he only realized it years later, when he saw Granger was short listed for a position in his department. He doesn't really want to go over the details, because it was childish, it was a simple crush, that was all. And now, Hermione was once again getting worked up from his bait, it wasn't always his intention to start an argument so early in the morning, but flustering Hermione at the start of his day, was strangely rewarding. Yeah, he's still childish that way, but no one has to know.

Hermione became all too aware that she locked them in a standstill, the moment she said those words. It's true that Malfoy would never win against her, not anymore, he had bullied her enough already, but something changed in the man this past four years, it was something good, and it was a little hard to believe at first, but then again, having known evil his entire life, something was bound to change. But, it's still not an excuse for him to accuse her blatantly like this. They weren't really friends yet, contrary to what Ron and Harry's relationship with the latter, but the two of them were civil to each other. It's not like they were still children, right?

"Fine then, if you really want to point fingers, it was Fleur who overreacted! It wouldn't have happened if she kept herself in check, I'm willing to accept, half of the responsibility and no more than that! So quit blaming me!"

"You're missing the point, Granger! It was your run, so naturally you're taking full responsibility!"

"And what's the use of having a partner then?" Hermione seethed back. "If you had just let me at it alone, it would have gone on better than what took place!"

"Are you so high and mighty, Granger, to think that you're above the protocol? Yes, Hermione Jean Granger, the famous witch who helped defeat the Dark Lord, big deal. None of that matters here in _my _Department."

"No, Draco," Hermione answered quietly, she was barely containing the anger that was bubbling just beneath the surface. "The last time I checked, that was you." She then cross her arms over chest, as if standing firm to the point she was making.

"If you're trying to be sarcastic, it's not going to get you anywhere with me."

Hermione just uncrossed her arms and slowly took three steps, so that she would just be standing in front of Malfoy's desk. She placed a hand on the desk, then leaned over, their faces just inches apart, her expression one of deadly calm.

If Malfoy, felt any danger, he did not show it, he did not even flinched, although, it wasn't unwelcome for him, for their faces to be this close, Hermione has smooth skin, he thought all too suddenly. His almost perverted thoughts where interrupted when Hermione spoke.

"Alright, I concede, you win." Her tone taking in a lower note.

Draco raised his eyebrows in response.

"I've played your game, for the past eight months, and I played it coolly. So, you win." Hermione straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest again. "I can't work with her anymore. There, I said it, so whatever satisfaction you got out of seeing me struggle all this time, revel in it as much as you want, I don't care, as long as you partner me up with someone else, it doesn't matter who it is, just as long as it's not Delacour."

"As much as I find it gratifying to hear you say that, the answer is no. And it's not an option, not for you two anyway." His face an expression of his classic smirk, which Hermione found irritating her once again.

"Why the bloody hell not?" She slammed a hand on Malfoy's desk. "_She _was working alone when I got here, why can't I?"

"Are you seriously asking me this question?" Draco was dumbfounded when Hermione said those words. All this while, he thought that Hermione had realized it by now, but the thing was, he was only finding out something new about Hermione Granger, when it comes to herself, she was being oblivious. "I'm not entirely sure, if you're playing stupid or not."

"Shut it, Malfoy. The last time you called me stupid, it wasn't a pretty picture for you, was it."

"I am not calling you stupid Granger, just to annoy you. Or maybe, idiotic would suit your tastes better? Because you're being stupid or idiotic as of this very moment, I don't know which is it, so take your pick." He drawled out slowly.

Hermione had no answer to that, he's got a lot of nerve to call her stupid and idiotic at the same time, sure it could be just simply that, to annoy her, but Hermione couldn't help feeling that she was missing something and that Draco knows what it was.

He was studying the brunette before him. Hermione was staring at something way past his shoulder. True, that Hermione was angry now, and she was just barely containing it but he couldn't help thinking, how can she really not know? "You're not even going ask me why?"

"You're going to tell me anyway, whether I asked or not."

"Good, because, you're the only _one_ who can work with her. There are rules and protocols that magically binds our contract with the Department's purpose."

"Really," Hermione scoffed in response. "That is your brilliant excuse and explanation for calling me stupid and an idiot at the same time. Good for you, now I know we have such a great head of department, congratulations, Malfoy."

"Do you really not get it, Granger?" He paused and then he began chuckling, which turned into hysterical laughter in just mere moments. "This is an all time new," he managed to croaked out in between bursts of laughter. He finally stopped when he saw the murderous look on Hermione's face, he knew that kind of face Hermione was making, memorized it in fact, it was the face that meant Hermione was about to curse him. "And here, I thought, that you are the brightest witch of our time, I had no idea you could be this daft," he added, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Apparently, I'm missing the joke here, now shut it, Malfoy, or I swear—"

"Or what," he interrupted. "You're going to rain curses upon me, to the point I won't even know my back from my front? Go ahead, I'd like to see you try!"

"Fine then! Why the bloody hell am I the only who can work with her?"

"It's because, that damn veela thrall doesn't work on you! Tell me, Granger, for the past eight months, have you been experiencing a change in personality, whenever you're near her? Let me guess the answer, it would be 'no', because you're still that insufferable know it all."

"You've got it all wrong, surely I'm not—" Hermione stopped in mid sentence, she hated to admit it, but there was some truth to what Draco had just said to her.

"What? You're really just realizing it now? I can't believe it."

"I can't be the only one! There are others out there for all we know!"

"Perhaps, you're right, and supposedly there are others out there who are immune like you to that veela thrall, but for Delacour, you're the only one."

"Hold on for a second, what are you trying to tell me? That I'm—" Hermione paused, her thoughts, going too fast, for her to even form a sentence. "Oh, bloody hell, you did not just—" She stopped again, upon realizing what Malfoy had just done. Hermione, herself couldn't believe it, that she had been slow on the uptake. She already knew, what she was getting into with Malfoy as her head of department, but for Draco to have spelled it out for her, was something she was having a hard time to swallow. "This was your bloody game all along? How dare you!"

Draco responded with another one of his classic smirk. "If that _man_ ever taught me anything, he taught me how to read people accurately. Come to think, that's about the only ever useful skill he taught me. And believe me, Granger, I'm very good at it, exceptionally good even, once you apply certain magical principles. I did not get this position because of my family's connections and wealth, contrary to what those fools say about me. I do have what it takes to head a department such as this, so give me a little credit than that."

"Even so!" Hermione retorted back indignantly. "What if you were wrong? What would you have done then?"

"I'm never wrong," Draco answered, his voice taking in a softer tone.

"Like that is comforting, Malfoy. Either way, I really don't care, it still wouldn't change the fact, that I hate you even though you do have your redeeming points."

"And I hate you too, Granger even though you're no longer that buck-toothed, bushy haired but still insufferable know it all mudblood that I know." Draco replied back, even if he called Granger a mudblood, Hermione knew full well that he meant no malice in those words. It was something that they got over some time ago, and what they said to each other, was like a well rehearsed script, to signal that their little exchange was over, even though nothing was ever really talked about, except about agreeing to disagree with one another. "Now, get outta here, I still have your mess to clean up."

"Right," Hermione made her way towards the door, she had her hand on the doorknob when she stopped. She turned around to face Malfoy once again. "How much trouble are we going to be in with the Magical Law Enforcer's Office?"

"A lot, I think. There were eight casualties in all, I need not remind you, all of their memories, erased as if by magic. Couldn't be bothered to have at least replaced those lost memories with something, could you?"

"It wasn't me—" Hermione started, but then changed her mind. "Fine, so how am I being sanctioned for that?"

"You're not to go out on a run, for at least a month, or so I would like to say."

"A month? That's unreasonable, and just when I have a lead!"

"Deal with it. The Department's lucky if we could get away with just that kind of sanction, so don't push it."

"And what am I supposed to do, with all that time?"

"I suggest you go study and research, Granger, that's what we're being paid to do."

"As you wish," Hermione answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She had just pulled open the door and was about to stepped out when she stopped in her tracks when Malfoy spoke again.

"Oh, by the way, I refused to accept your surrender, the game is still on, Granger, the ball's in your court now."

Hermione slammed the door shut with as much force as she can manage without breaking the glass partition on it, in response to what Malfoy had said. _He'll always be a git! _She thought angrily to herself. She stomped all the way back to her cubicle, like a child having a tantrum, to gather up some of the material she had previously compiled prior to their run from the night before, hoping to see, if there was something relevant in them.

"Research, right! He doesn't need to tell me! And what the hell was he playing at? Gambling with my life, with something like me being unaffected by Fleur's thrall?" Hermione muttered under her breath, still irritated at the meeting that transpired just minutes ago. "He could have been wrong! I could have been—" She stopped, refusing to finish the sentence, grasping the idea that if Malfoy was wrong, she could have been irrevocably enslaved by Fleur. "Damn it all to hell and back! Why do I have to be stuck with her?"

"Hermione?"

The younger witch froze at the sound of her name. She stopped midway in collecting her things, only to see that her neat cubicle looked like a tornado had just passed over. She was so engrossed in her angry mutterings, and imagining all the legal curses she could possibly inflict on Malfoy, that she did not notice it, not until her name was spoken. _Merlin's beard, _she thought, and then began counting one to ten silently in her head, hoping that the next breath she takes, that the veela thrall that was floating dangerously in the air would dissipate. For how long it was floating around, she has no idea, but from the odd looks the other two Unspeakables casting their way, who were in the offices with them, Hermione guessed it had been awhile.

"Fleur," Hermione answered breathlessly. She looked up and saw that once again, Fleur was looking at her with an unreadable expression on her face. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not that long, I was waiting for you," Fleur indicated at her own cubicle which was located just adjacently to the right of Hermione's.

For a moment, Hermione could have swore that Fleur's eyes were darker than their usual color, but when she looked again, it was back to their normal blue. "Is it important? I have something really urgent to do, and I—well can we talk later?"

Hermione knew that Fleur wasn't buying her excuse, but it nevertheless surprised her when Fleur responded and with a smile at that. "Sure, we'll talk later."

"Alright then," Hermione hastily retreated, more like ran away, from one French witch who gave her the saddest smile that Hermione had ever seen on that beautiful face. Hermione hated to admit it, that it bothered her, that expression on Fleur's face and the feeling that somehow she was the cause of that. _Merlin's beard, why is this happening to me?_

A few minutes later, Hermione found herself in the circular room. But the feeling of being guilty about something never left her, of course it couldn't have been related to what she and Malfoy had been arguing about, or maybe it's what she said after the meeting. But that's impossible, she wasn't talking out loud, no sane person would be caught dead talking out loud to themselves, that is surely a one way ticket to an asylum, and being an Unspeakable, it was already enough for other wizards and witches to think that they were a bunch of loons.

She sighed, and walked towards the bright red orange mark on the door to her three o'clock position and pushed it open, and once again, she was staring at the passageway that leads to the offices of the Department of Mysteries. _Not again, _she berated herself. _You know you're doing the spell wrong, that's why you keep on coming back here. I know that already! Then stop thinking about her, you can think about her later. _Hermione let out a puff of air loudly, blowing away the strand of hair that kept falling over her face and at the same time closing the door once again. She walked back towards the center of the circular room and closed her eyes. As soon as doing so, she could hear the room spinning around at an incredible speed. She should be used to it by now, but then again, there are just some things that you never get used to, like this room for example. What kind of wizard would have thought of having a spinning circular room as a form of security measure? It was stupid, it could be easily broken, if it was meant to confuse unwanted visitors, it was certainly doing a poor job, it would only cause nausea and dizziness. And what's up with the garishly blue lighting of the whole room? Could no one really be bothered to brighten the room up? Of course, Hermione was well aware, that she was absolutely thinking about unnecessary things, but on second thought, it was a little bit helpful, for she now had a clear picture of which chamber she wanted to go to.

Sensing that the circular room had already come to a halt, Hermione opened her eyes and held her wand aloft. "_Ostendo sum," s_he muttered, all the while holding on to the clear picture of the room she intended to go to, or rather escaped to. She watched the streak of bright red orange line, travel from her wand tip, towards the door of the chamber she needed to go to. The streak of light, settled on the door, at her seven o'clock, so she made her way towards it and opened the door.

It never ceases to take her breath away, after eight months in the Department, whenever she steps into this chamber, it still feels like the day when she had her first tour of the department. Well, of course at that time she still wasn't entirely sure about accepting the job offer, but this, this was what swayed her to finally accept, in hindsight, Hermione suspected that Draco knew she would have said yes, all he had to do was show her this chamber.

The door silently closed behind her. Hermione just stood there, letting the vastness of this place take her over. She was standing on the threshold of the largest library she had ever seen. If one looks up, it would seem that there was no end to the ceiling. It was like standing in a whole new universe, hundreds upon hundreds of towering bookshelves for as far as the eye can see, and they were all crammed with books, scrolls, tablets and tomes, in all written languages the world has known and never known, magical and none magical alike. If she were to describe it to anyone who had never set foot in this place, it would be like the Library of Alexandria, only more ancient and way grander than the former's glory. One could easily get lost here, that was for sure, but to Hermione she would never get lost, more like she would never want to leave this place ever, her only disappointment was that, one lifetime would never be enough for her to read all the books in here.

Hermione was home, and they the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries calls this chamber the Great Library.

**xxxXXXxxx**

Hermione blew a strand of hair away from her face. She had been sitting on this simple wooden stool, in this spot, somewhere in the depths of the Obscure Section of the Great Library for some time now. Looking around, about more than a dozen of books were strewn around her, no, not just books, there were tomes, scrolls and a couple of ancient looking tablets thrown in the mix as well, all seemingly untouched. She came here to do research, like she was told, no not told, more like ordered to, after she was summoned, that's right _summoned _like a lowly subject to his highness' chambers. She blew again on the strand of annoying hair which kept falling over her face and gave an involuntary sigh. It was unbecoming of her, she was like an old fashioned damsel, who keeps on sighing when something was troubling her. It wasn't like her at all. She's Hermione Granger, a woman of action, but lately all she seems to do is mess things up, although she would never concede to that fact out loud in front of Draco Malfoy, her head of Department, after all they do have quite a bit of history together.

In retrospect, she knew that another one of their arguments would ensue, the moment she came in. That part, was nothing at all, well, not nothing, but more like she was used to it. It feels like something of a routine now, after eight months of working in the Department of Mysteries with Malfoy as her head of department, which was totally unexpected. She would have expected Malfoy, to work in another department of the Ministry, where he can show off, well, that just goes to show, how little she knows of people. The meeting with Malfoy that ended in an argument once again early that morning was to be expected, normal even for her, but it was after the meeting, when she exited Malfoy's office, that had her running to this place. She wasn't running, she was hiding, actually no, she was avoiding _someone. _The atmosphere completely threw her off her guard, not that early in the morning, Fleur wouldn't have, at least unintentionally or so, not unless she had heard what Hermione had said in Malfoy's office or was it when she was on the verge of messing up her usually neat cubicle. It just couldn't be possible, right? Veelas doesn't possess uncanny hearing or something.

"Bloody hell," she muttered. It sounded like she was cursing herself. She stared intently at the parchment that was floating at her eye level and noted the one word she had written there. _I give up, _she finally admitted to herself. Her mind had turned into a complete blank with only a face and a name that had resided inside her head permanently. When had it started, she couldn't remember, it didn't happen all too suddenly, it happened gradually, with each day she keeps on spending with Fleur, it was unavoidable really, they were partners after all, somehow the French witch, unknowingly had settled somewhere in the depths of Hermione's thoughts, constantly thinking about Fleur to no end. Well maybe, because Fleur was the only person who saw through her lies, her facade, Hermione hated it and was grateful at the same time, and it scares the hell out of her. All her defenses, were dropping far too quickly whenever they were together, she doesn't need to say anything but Fleur always seems to understood her. Whatever her demons were, Fleur could easily take them away. Hermione knew that she was being selfish in regards to whatever form of friendship they have, maybe it was time for their roles to reverse, Fleur has her own share of demons and whatever they were, the older witch is much better in bottling it all up inside.

Hermione shifted her gaze away from the floating parchment and settled it on the empty aisle before her. In a way, or in Hermione's own way, she understood Fleur, but expressing it to the older witch is a lot harder than it was supposed to be, it wasn't like the friendship she, Harry and Ron has. Sure, there were those days that they quarrel among themselves, but given enough time, it always seems to mend itself, and the three of them would pick up where the left off, no discomfort of any kind. It was already proven time and time again. But with Fleur, it was different, and Hermione always seems to find herself, floating on uncharted waters. Fleur has a way of affecting her emotions directly, and it wasn't the way a veela would affect one's emotions, but it's the way she would feel affected when someone close to her is having a hard time. Having to feel recently about Fleur this way was driving Hermione up the wall. It was like a constant ache, and Hermione wasn't sure if she was helping or hurting. Fleur was a complete mystery to her, yet one Hermione understood the logic of, yeah right, if she were to give it a word, it would be _contradictions_. Hermione's feelings were full of contradictions when it comes to Fleur.

Hermione smiled involuntarily at herself. Fleur's eyes are gorgeous, the way the blue in them would change its shade according to what the older witch's emotions were. And what about that hair? That silky smooth silver blond hair, which always seems to flow even if there was no wind. Fleur is a perfect version of what every woman wants to be, physically that is. Except for one thing, Hermione corrected herself. Hermione had only seen it a few times and if she to had associate it with a feeling, it terrifies her. It's when Fleur's eyes would change into dark orbs a shade even deeper than black, her irises would be replaced with the irises of something like a vulture. But that feeling of terror, it wasn't fear for her own self, it was for Fleur. Hermione was terrified, that she couldn't bring back Fleur, to her normal self when she veela's out. So what if Malfoy was right? Or was he just messing with her head? Hermione wasn't entirely convinced that she was the only one, it's just not probable.

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment and then opened them. _Is it possible to materialize a person out of thin air, if you think about them too much? _She wondered and then kicked herself mentally. _Of course not, no magic in the world could make that happen._

Hermione quickly averted her gaze from the woman who was slowly making her way towards her and quickly grab the nearest book by her feet. She opened the book halfway, not really noticing that the book's text was written in a language she had never seen before and acted like she had just found whatever it was she was looking for.

"I see you," Fleur said softly.

"I see you, too," Hermione answered automatically without even looking up.

"I didn't know you could read something like that." If Hermione felt uncomfortable that the woman was invading her personal space she did not show it, instead the younger witch lifted her head casually only to find that the older woman was leaning over her, peering at the book that Hermione had propped open just an instant ago on her lap.

Hermione answered with a rueful smile. "I'm not fooling you, am I?"

"No, you can always try though," Fleur answered while straightening up, she took out her wand, and made a quick flick with it. A wooden stool, very similar to what Hermione was sitting on conjured out of thin air. She then made another gesture, to move the books that were on Hermione's left side out of the way and placed her wooden stool on the clear area right beside the younger witch. Fleur then continued to sat down on it facing the brunette, a little too gracefully in Hermione's opinion.

"Well," Hermione began. "At first I thought, that what we're looking for, could probably be on the Magical Places of the World section, and then I thought about it, there is a rather high probability that we can narrow the search down in the Obscure Texts section, if only I can make sense of what it seems to be—"

"Hermione," Fleur interrupted, the older witch knew that if Hermione wanted to avoid a subject, the younger witch tends to run her mouth.

"At least, I'm trying though," Hermione murmured.

"_Monsieur_ Malfoy is clearly avoiding me as well, do you know why? I have been wanting to talk to him since after your meeting."

"'Avoiding you as well,'" Hermione repeated. "Why would anyone be avoiding you?"

"You can at least make an effort of trying hard enough," Fleur answered with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," Hermione shifted slightly in her sit so that she was now facing Fleur directly. Once again, that unreadable expression was clear on Fleur's profile, it was becoming more and more familiar to her by now. "I haven't been avoiding you, it's—I don't know, I'm really sorry if it seems that way to you."

"You know, you can't lie to me either."

"Honestly, I find that veela sense of yours annoying at times."

"Do you hate it? My, as how you say it, veela senses?"

"No, not really but at this very minute I do. I'm sorry," Hermione finally said.

"Why are you apologizing again, _ma belle_? You seem to be apologizing to me a lot, you know you've done nothing wrong."

"I'm not entirely sure about that either, can I take a wild guess, about why you wanted to talk with Draco?" Fleur just shrugged in response. "I don't know how it could have been possible, but you heard what I said."

"Hermione, do you really hate working with me that much? Please, answer me truthfully, I would lose it if you even attempt to lie."

"No, I don't. Actually I do like working with you, but its just that sometimes, well how do I say it— I was really mad when I said what I said."

"You're not just mad, I have my _veela senses_, what is it?"

"Ah, it's nothing really, just a feeling I have had for a long time now. You said, I can't lie to you. If you really have to know, it's that— Merlin, I'm going to sound stupid." Hermione paused, she studied Fleur briefly, hoping that the older witch would say something, anything to stop Hermione from making a fool of herself, but Fleur remained silent, waiting for what Hermione was about to say. Hermione gave a long sigh, before continuing. "It's that you keep going out of control a lot this past few weeks, and I—I'm scared, Fleur." Hermione finished while looking away.

"Hermione, I would never do anything to make you afraid of me, you know that I—" Fleur replied, taking Hermione's hand and placing a finger under the brunette's chin, so that she could look into Hermione's deep chocolate brown eyes.

"No, you're misunderstanding me," _Oh hell, _Hermione thought when she spotted the rim of Fleur's blue eyes dissipating quickly into black. Hermione gulped, but knew full well that she couldn't stop the flow of her words. "I'm not scared _of _you, I'm scared _for _you, I'm terrified that I wouldn't be able to see _you, _the Fleur I know, I'm terrified that I would lose you to the other you, and that you wouldn't hear me or see me anymore. I don't want that to happen." _Please change back, _she added silently.

"Hermione, that would never happen, and you don't know how happy I am to hear you say that." Fleur said dropping her hand from Hermione's chin.

"Then why do you hate yourself whenever you veela out?"

"'Veela out,' that's a funny term to use."

"It's the only way I can describe you whenever you lose it."

"I hate it, because I do not want to hurt you."

"Hurt me? How could you even possibly do that, it's the other way around from my point of view. Besides, I can protect myself very well."

"Yes, you can. But there are some things that you cannot protect yourself from. Things that you do not even see it happening but is affecting you directly. How can you protect yourself from that?"

"Now that is a very odd thing to say." Hermione said a smile forming on her face and also relieved to see Fleur's eyes were all blue again.

"I have something for you," Fleur said taking her hand away from Hermione's. "Here," she said handing Hermione what appeared to be a very old and tattered book.

"What is it?"

"Last night, you said that you keep on, how did you say it, triggering my veela instincts. I think this will help."

Hermione glanced at the book that Fleur had just given her and felt her face heat up suddenly, when she read the title of the small book, that Fleur was holding, _Veela: A Dating Guide_.

"A Dating Guide?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You think this will help? I am not dating you!" Hermione said almost mortified at the idea.

Fleur just laughed her beautiful laugh, like the sound of tinkling wind chimes.

"_Non_, you misinterpret _mademoiselle_."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question.

"Just read it, it will be how do you say it, very informative."

"Okay," Hermione said doubt still in her face.

Fleur was still laughing, when Hermione jumped up suddenly. "Oh! I'm going to be late. I promised Harry and Ron to meet them for lunch. Do you want to join us?"

"_Non_, I told Bill that I will join him for his supper and for my lunch."

"Okay, see you when I get back?"

"_Oui_."

And with that, Hermione sped towards the door back to the circular room book still in hand.

**xxxXXXxxx**

"How did you find this place? It's a bit out of the way, but the meat pie is absolutely to die for." Hermione said after eating the last bite of her lunch, strangely she had her appetite back after weeks of being unable to eat well, like she had stomach flu or something. She reached out for her glass of iced tea and proceeded to take a sip from it.

"Well, me and Ron, we were just coming back from our last job, remember the bloke, who mistook, that a muggle woman's skirt was a cloak?"

"Yes, I do remember that," Hermione answered a wide grin spreading on her face. She remembered laughing so hard that time, when Ron and Harry told her the story about it.

"Right, we got hungry, and this was the only place open that time, we can't go apparating all the way back to London on an empty stomach," Ron finished. He had just started on his seventh order of the meat pie. "It looks suspicious from the outside, a bit rundown, but the pie makes up for it, and not a lot of people as you can see."

"So I've noticed, that's why I've been wondering when the two of you will start asking me for help."

"Ask for help?" Ron asked, but the look of innocence on his face didn't fool Hermione. "Hermione, the Auror's Headquarters has an extensive network for information, we can do our research without going to the library."

"Really now, but some things will never change, eh Ronniekins?" Hermione said teasing Ron and smirking at the old nickname.

"Hermione really is brilliant, right mate? Nothing gets past her."

"Stop patronizing me Ronald, just spit it out and tell me already."

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his sit. "What have you heard about _Brazil_?" he asked lowering his voice as if he's confiding in Hermione a rather intimate secret.

"_Brazil_?" A look of confusion, evident on Hermione's face. "Has Malfoy made an official request with the Aurors?"

"Malfoy? Why would he be requesting our support?" Harry answered back, it was now the two men who looked confused by Hermione's question.

"Coincidence?" Hermione murmured to herself.

"What was that?" Ron asked, missing what Hermione had just said.

"She said coincidence, Ron, keep up mate will you? I don't know about coincidences but there's stuff going on there. The Ministry has already received a summons for help from the _Brazilian Ministry of Magic_."

"A summons for help?" Hermione asked, she took another sip of her iced tea, "I don't know much about the current events of the magical community of Brazil, but it's something dark if the Aurors are involved."

"It is, but we're not going over there to fight, it's mainly to provide support and bodyguard duties. They're just taking extra precautions, I reckon."

"Precautions from what?"

"Well something is stirring, from the little I know, it's still on a need to know basis, that's why, we're asking for help."

"We?" Ron interjected after swallowing his food. "Not 'we' mate, just you, I have no interest in this. If Kingsley wants me there, I'll go, but until then, it has nothing to do with us."

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said, an eyebrow raise, and with a tone of voice, one would usually use, on a child who has been caught doing he wasn't suppose to, "Are you sticking your nose in again where it doesn't belong?"

"Of course not, we're—" Harry stopped when Ron elbowed him, "Fine then, _I'm_ just curious that's all, and 'Mione, you mentioned something about a coincidence."

"It's nothing, but you got me, fine, I'll help, so much for that extensive information network of yours, Ronald."

"What'd I do? I'm peacefully enjoying my lunch here, until you two dragged me into your conversation, which I don't want any part of mate, no offense by the way."

"None taken," Harry answered casually.

"With that said, while the two of you were talking about _Brazil_, I've been wondering about that." And before Hermione could grabbed it, Ron's quick actions beat her to it. "I can't believe that you took out a book from the _mythical library_ of your department."

"Give that back Ronald," Hermione answered lunging for the book which Ron kept well out of her reach, "and the library is not mythical, it's real and that book is not from the Great Library."

"Don't be stingy, 'Mione, we just want to know what you Unspeakables are so secretive about."

"Oh please, we're not secretive, everybody knows that all we do is study and research, your words by the way Ronald." She made another attempt to get her book back, but with no success.

"No," Ron laughed, "besides, mate I know your curious as much as I am."

Torn between his two best friends, Harry finally gave Hermione an apologetic look, clearly his curiosity winning out. "Well, a little. Sorry 'Mione."

She sat there fuming at her two best friends. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who even now has still has his unkempt jet black hair but only longer hiding the lightning shape scar on his forehead that Hermione knew was there even if she could not see it. His brilliant green eyes darting quickly from her to Ron.

"Just so you know, it isn't work," she said unable to keep the blush coming. She settled down in her chair knowing fully well that they would still be on guard if she made another lunge for the book now that Harry had joined sides with Ron.

"_Veela: A Dating Guide_?" Harry asked amused, reading over Ron's shoulder.

"Like I said, it's not from the Library so there, you've seen it, now give it back."

Ron choked back his food and was now staring at Hermione. His red hair bright against the midday light. A halfway between an amused and dirty expression on his freckly face. "Blimey!"

"It's not what you think!"

"Really?" Ron answered the dirty expression still on his face and then turned his attention back to the book and began leafing through it, he turned the book about a hundred eighty degree, when something caught his attention. "Oi, mate you gotta look at this," he gestured towards Harry and then held up the book so that they both could see it.

Hermione all the while her face red was burning with embarrassment, and it doesn't help matters at all, that her two best friends keeps on giving her furtive glances.

"Oh c'mon 'Mione, you know we wouldn't think less of you if you are in fact dating Fleur, right mate?" Harry said. "On second thought, well maybe except for Gin and Mrs. Weasely."

"I think it's hot," Ron answered distractedly.

"I only have two things to say, one, wipe that perverted look from your face Ron, its disgusting, and Harry what in Merlin's name are you looking at over Ron's shoulder?"

"It's not just for men, they have positions for both women too. Have you read this book already 'Mione?" Harry said. "Can I borrow it?"

"No! And two," Hermione continued, choosing to ignore Harry's question, "I'm not dating Fleur, she lent me that book to improve our working relationship."

"When you say working relationship?" Ron edged on.

"Like I said, we're not dating, so whatever insinuations you have on mind Ron, you're dead wrong, and it's none of your business anyway." She finished, making another attempt to get the book back and finally succeeded, but Hermione was still very red on the face though. "Now if you'll excuse me." She stood up noisily ignoring the looks of the patrons who eyed their whole exchange all this time.

"Our 'Mione's being unusually daft isn't she?" Ron said.

"Right you are mate, usually she notices stuff about other people, but when it comes to herself, she's absolutely helpless."

Hermione just rolled her eyes at her two best friends. "Well regardless, I'm going ahead." And with that, Hermione made her way outside the pub and left her two best friends still snickering at her. _They will always be boys, _with that thought in mind she finally arrived at the decrepit barn just a hundred yards from the pub where they had their lunch, which the three of them used to apparate here, and disapparated back to London.


	4. Three

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

It was fun rewriting this chapter. (^_^)

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Three**

"_Do you know how veelas are born?"_

"_I suppose, just like wizards and witches, you take a mate, fall in love maybe, and then have children."_

"_For half-veelas and part-veelas, yes, that is how you do it, but for pure blooded veelas, it's a different matter entirely."_

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows together, for some unknown reason today, she had been relieving a part of _that _summer. A recollection that felt more like a dream for the most part. It's like it happened, but really didn't happen, since she couldn't go well past that point as hard as she tried to. It's been two weeks into her sanction, but in truth it feels more like a punishment, on the other hand, if Hermione would've looked back, nothing out of the ordinary had happened since then. It was a full two weeks of bliss, no one had veela'd out, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like as if her emotions were being constantly pulled apart, except for the part that she feels more and more fatigued everyday, like she was coming down with a sort of sickness that she has no idea of what could be the cause. Even so, it was still a welcome change, though she hated to admit giving credit to Malfoy for grounding her. It was what she needed, no, it was what she and Fleur needed.

The two women had settled into somewhat of a routine since their last serious conversation in the Great Library. It's as if, both had come to a silent agreement to not further explore or even give any more meaning to what was already laid bare before them. It's simple really, Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding, whenever her thoughts would wander to the kind of relationship, she and Fleur have. Their friendship, it didn't happen with the way it happened with her, Ron and Harry. It didn't even happen after Bill and Fleur nursed them back to health, although it was the first time Hermione had seen Fleur veela'd out. It wasn't desire that was coating the air then, rather a murderous intent, as to what could have caused it, Hermione never wanted to know or it's that she somehow knew, but just never accepted the reasoning behind it. It was the first time, she had ever seen Bill weak. It shook her entire system when she saw it, and it wasn't just Bill, everybody, even the goblin Griphook was affected. Of course, she never told anyone about it, because from what Hermione knew of veelas, they each affect a person differently and also she conveniently forgot about the whole thing, since they were in the middle of a war. She only remembered it, when she had that dream two nights before. Maybe that dream, was the catalyst as to why she was relieving that particular summer night, the one that happened or felt like didn't happen.

It was exactly three summers ago, just a year after the war. There was a grand memorial service, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy to commemorate the wizards and witches who died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione remembered this, because after being there for a moment, she, Harry and Ron decided to leave the ceremony. They soon found themselves apparating towards Shell Cottage. As to why they chose the place, it was because the people who mattered to them were buried there, the garden which was originally Dobby's grave has now become a cemetery. The people who they cared about rests there, Fred, Lupin and Tonks, Dobby and a memorial of Harry's parents, James and Lily and also Harry's godfather, Sirius. Even Snape's name was in the memorial too. It was the first time, that Hermione felt and understood, what Harry had been feeling, being famous and not wanting it. To have a lot of eyes watching her, waiting for her every move, it was suffocating and she needed to run away. In the end, it wasn't a solemn memorial they attended but rather a happy event at that, thanks to George who was already there when they arrived. But for the life of her, Hermione couldn't remember why everything felt that something had suddenly gone wrong.

It was also the first time, that she and Fleur had a proper conversation, that much Hermione would never forget but as to the details of that conversation was another thing entirely. Hermione wrinkled her nose and made a small coughing noise, when a cloud of dust erupted from the book, Fleur had just opened in front of her, which was followed by a short sneeze. Her eyes began watering and she blinked them rapidly to get the dust out of her eyes.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"Yes, dust got in caught in my eyes, that's all."

"Let me see," Fleur said and without warning, Fleur took Hermione's face in both hands. "Look up," the older witch murmured.

Hermione did as she was instructed. As soon as she did, she felt small breaths of air on her eyes. _Cinammon? _She thought. _No, more __like— _"Mint?"

"Hmm?" Fleur said in response.

Hermione could feel her face heating up, she didn't mean to say out loud her thoughts. Even though she couldn't see Fleur directly, Hermione was sure that the older woman was smiling and that Fleur was feeling her embarrassment, Hermione's face was after all being held on Fleur's both hands. "It smells like mint, your breath smells like mint."

"Oh," Fleur responded. Fleur then stopped blowing softly on Hermione's eyes. She then, tilted the younger witch's face down to her eye level, hands still on Hermione's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't noticed that you were lost in thought." Fleur didn't released Hermione's face just yet, instead she began caressing it gently, which made Hermione blushed even more furiously. "Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you." They stared again at each other for a couple of seconds, before being immediately followed by an awkward silence between them. "So," Hermione said, she gestured to the open book on her desk, Fleur then reluctantly released Hermione's face from her grasp. If Fleur was embarrassed with what happened she didn't show it. Hermione took a deep breath, she was testing if any veela thrall was in the air, after this little exchange. Thankfully there was none, Fleur was definitely keeping herself in check. It was a sigh of relief for the younger witch, then she added, "Did you find something?"

"Yes, I think so."

Hermione quickly scanned the page, Fleur had opened and then raised her eyebrows in question to the older woman. "A_ wish?_"

"Yes," Fleur then leaned on top of Hermione's desk. She took one of Hermione's quills then began playing with it, running the feather part of the quill back and forth across her palm.

Hermione couldn't help thinking, how it would feel like if Fleur ran that over her body, then stopped suddenly when Fleur was giving her a strange look, half of a teasing smile on her lips. Hermione cleared her throat and then focused her attention back on the book. "It doesn't make sense."

"_Au contraire_, it makes a lot of sense." Fleur straightened up and moved behind Hermione. She placed an arm on the back of Hermione's chair and then leaned over to flipped the page Hermione was reading to the next. "Continue reading, _mademoiselle_."

"But all their lot disappeared a long time ago," Hermione muttered under her breath, surprise evident in her voice. "No wonder he went berserk on us. But he couldn't be a pure blood."

"_Non_, he's something else. I'm surprised he even lived this long, didn't you notice it?"

"I'm not sure, he could definitely mimic a wizard's magic. What I want to know, is why come to us? It's true, no one has ever made a ground breaking study in regards with _that_, for the last thousand years or so. It's generally accepted as it is, besides the only thing we can do is keep a record."

"It's because no one has been working on it, or even wants to work on it."

"But you did, how on earth did you even got Draco to agree?"

"I used certain ways, being a part-veela does have its convenient uses." Fleur answered nonchalantly.

"Part-veela, right. But you veela out like a pure blooded one. Why is that?"

"I don't know, but I told you about it. And I was only teasing you about getting _Monsieur _Malfoy to agree. I presented him with some facts, that persuaded him to say yes."

"You did? What was it?" Hermione looked up, only to find Fleur leaning on her desk again. _How did she— never mind. _She then returned her focus back on the book and squinted at it, there was a marking on the bottom right corner of the page, it looked like a round ink blot at first, but staring at it, "Fleur, does this look similar to you?" Hermione said, handing Fleur the book and pointing to the small figure in the book.

"_Merde_," Fleur muttered under her breath, it was now her turn to be surprised.

"It's a little hard to miss, when you know where you've seen it before, but it's a bit different from that _one_."

"_Oui_," Fleur looked up and stared down the end of the corridor narrowing her eyes.

"'_Qua impossible est possible_,' how befitting," Hermione said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, the department's vision just popped into my head."

"I can understand that, where the impossible is possible," Fleur said almost to herself.

Hermione was once again watching Fleur, when the older witch said that. "Is that why you left Gringotts to work here? To make the impossible, possible?"

"_Non_, _ma belle_, like you, I seek another answer."

"An answer to what? Maybe the reason why you're having a hard time, is because you're not asking the right questions."

"Believe _moi_, I'm asking the right question, and I have an answer already, but I refuse to accept that there is only one answer."

"If you have your answer already to whatever question that you have had, and cannot accept it as it is, then do what I do." Hermione said smiling at Fleur.

"And what is that, _mademoiselle?"_

"Find a loophole, and then create your answer."

"Ah, then I must say, that we are thinking the exact same thing," Fleur said and then made a small frown. "But even so, I don't have much time left."

"We do have the Time Chamber," Hermione indicated down the corridor that Fleur had been staring at. "We can make time."

"I hate to remind you _mademoiselle_, you nearly destroyed that chamber, and up until now, it's still unsafe to go inside. And even if I make time," Fleur shook her head, then turned to look at Hermione, "it won't be enough."

"It sounds to me like you've given up."

"_Non_, if I did, I wouldn't be here, if its still possible to reverse time, I would have chosen to walk away."

"Walked away from what? You're full of mysteries you are, no wonder you met the qualifications. Maybe I can help you find another answer, this is a dead end anyway, I fail to see what Malfoy would want us to do next. I don't see myself going to Brazil anytime soon."

"A wish, huh?" Fleur murmured.

"Fleur, there's something else."

"What is it?"

"It's the name, it's oddly familiar, like I know of it."

"Is this the reason why you're strangely fixated on Brazil?"

"I do know of the name, she's a famous Brazilian witch, I think. But I know of her, from something else, I just can't seem to remember, it's like my mind is blocking it out on purpose."

"Maybe there is a reason, why you're blocking it out, maybe you're not suppose to remember."

"And why is that? It's not like knowing of a name caused me harm."

"It did, once."

Hermione just looked at Fleur quizzically, she couldn't help but feel that the older woman was changing the subject on purpose.

"It doesn't matter, I'll find out— Ow!" Hermione exclaimed when something hit the side of her face. "What is it?"

"It's a memo from William," Fleur said, reading the note she had picked up when it fell on Hermione's desk, "he's at the atrium already."

"You have a date?"

"_Non_."

"Oh, I thought it was a date, you seemed dressed up today."

"I'm always dressed up everyday."

"I didn't notice."

"Maybe it's time you should." Fleur winked and with that she leaned over and kissed Hermione on both cheeks, which left Hermione extremely red all over her face which thankfully the older witch did not noticed.

**xxxXXXxxx**

_Hermione was sitting on the sand dunes well away from the bonfire, lost in thought. She was watching the waves crashed violently on the shores and wondered about wading in. _That's stupid, it's not like I have a death wish, _she thought. _But didn't you want to disappear just a couple of nights ago? _She sighed. A gust of cold wind then blew in her direction, making the low hanging branch she was using to hide from the others, smack her arm. "Ow!" She glared at the annoying branch before standing up and moved a couple of feet away from it. She looked up, when the sand dune she was about to sit on was illuminated by the brilliant glow of the moon. _

"_It is beautiful," a voice said from somewhere behind her, reflecting her thoughts exactly._

_Hermione jumped at the sound of the voice. Instead of turning around, to welcome the person that was behind her, Hermione opted to sat down on the sands, knees drawn close to her chest, and chose to ignore whoever it was, hoping that with this indifferent attitude, that person would just leave her alone. The sound of the crashing waves, the boisterous laughter at the bonfire and the sound of the low hanging branch as it danced when another gust of wind blew, were lost on Hermione when she tilted her face up to gaze at the moon. She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, that she didn't discerned that someone sat beside her. Hermione didn't tore her gaze away from the moon when she said, "Don't you know the concept of respecting someone's privacy?" she said, a bite in her voice._

"_If you wanted, how did you say it, privacy, I'm sure you could do better than this."_

_Hermione knew that the other person was right. Maybe she wanted to be found after all, and even if that was what she wanted, its definitely not by this person. Anyone but her, the last time they were alone in a room together, was a memory she wished she did not remember now. Fleur was fearsome in that memory, even more than Bellatrix, and the latter was as evil and cruel as they come. Hermione shifted her gaze to look at the French witch, who seemed intent on invading her solitude, only to meet that cerulean blue eyes of hers. There was a soft smile on the older woman's face. Hermione just rolled her eyes in response and focused her attention back on the full moon. Maybe if she ignored Fleur long enough, the older woman would take the hint and just leave. If Fleur took the hint, she did not do it, instead she continued to sit there silently beside Hermione. In a way, it was comforting to have Fleur with her. The older witch needn't say anything, it was a silence that was calming her troubled thoughts. Hermione knew that they were sitting there just like that for awhile, when she became distinctly aware that the rowdiness coming from the bonfire was dying down. Hermione stretched her legs before her and then laid back down on the sand dune. She then raised her right arm up towards the sky, her palm open covering the full moon with it. She then curled her thumb and index finger together so that they'd form a circle big enough to encircle the moon._

_"Do you know how veelas are born, Hermione?" Fleur spoke suddenly, breaking the silence._

_Hermione lowered her arm slowly and placed it on top of her stomach. "I suppose just like wizards and witches, you take a mate, fall in love maybe, and then have children." She turned her focus on the older woman, who was now looking down on her. It was the first time that Hermione thought Fleur to be beautiful, she even debated if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It seemed to her that Fleur was glowing, maybe it was the light of the full moon, but whatever it was, it was accentuating her goddess-like features, it was no wonder that men and women blindly falls head over heels on first sight for this woman. She was just simply breathtaking that way. Oddly enough, Hermione was far from feeling love at first sight for Fleur, it was the opposite perhaps, instead of blindly falling, Hermione felt like she had just opened her eyes, and was seeing Fleur, for the first time. She sat back up and peered at Fleur more closely, their faces inches apart. _How could I have not noticed, that she's just like any other woman? It's true, she's exceptionally attractive, but I get the feeling that she's just like the rest of us. And why is she nervous? _Hermione thought suddenly. _It's because you're staring at her like a lunatic. _Having realized this, Hermione laid back down on the sand once more and went back to staring at the moon. "Why are you asking all of a sudden anyway?"_

_Fleur shook her head, if Hermione made her uncomfortable by staring at her blatantly, she didn't mind it. In fact, at that time, Fleur wanted Hermione to not look at anything else other than her. "For half-veelas and part-veelas, yes, that is how you do it, but for pure blooded veelas, it's a different matter entirely."_

_"I don't understand," she began, Hermione looked and felt confused, "Why are you telling me?"_

"_I thought, you'd find it interesting. Even if it isn't much, I just wanted to get your mind off the things that you've been thinking about lately."_

"_Oh, that— I didn't think someone would notice." Hermione said. _

"_I would always notice."_

_Hermione thought it odd for Fleur to say something like that. She dismissed the thought immediately, maybe it was that obvious that something was weighing her down, of course she didn't expect for Ron to notice, he was always thick when it comes to emotions, and Harry was pretty much glued to Ginny and Ginny to Harry this days. Hermione was honestly happy for the two of them, she didn't want to be the one to burst the couple's happy bubble with something as trivial as her problems and Harry deserved to enjoy happiness. Hermione was starting to feel awkward being alone with Fleur, besides, with after what she witnessed the first time they were in Shell Cottage, Hermione wasn't sure if she could handle something like that happening again, but Fleur did promised her, that nothing like that would happen again, as long as she promises to keep herself safe. It was an odd compromise they made, but one Hermione was all too happy to keep, as long as she doesn't witness anything like that again. Hermione had no idea how to respond to that, so chose to answer to what Fleur said about the veelas, "I think I happen to read a chapter on veelas back when I was in fourth year." Hermione said twisting her head to look at Fleur who was now watching the ocean intently. "I remember Ron and Harry saying that you were one and me disagreeing, because if you were I would have been affected like them by that veela thrall of yours."_

"_And were you affected?"_

"_I don't remember, maybe because that time, I didn't believed that you were."_

"_How about now?" Hermione could hear the earnestness in Fleur's question._

"_There was that time though, it happened here." Hermione suddenly didn't like the direction their conversation was going, so she hastily changed it back to Fleur's topic of conversation. "I read in that chapter about veelas, that certain mating rituals are involved, I assumed that was just a lighter term for the normal way you know to conceive children." Hermione blushed at this. "So, you're saying that a pure blooded veela is born differently from half veelas and part veelas."_

"_Yes, they're not born, but if I have to describe it more accurately, pure blooded veelas are created."_

"_Created?" Hermione queried and then began to giggle which immediately turned into laughter. She rolled on her side in Fleur's direction, then looked up to see an amused expression on Fleur's face. She stopped laughing and then sat up, she was now facing Fleur directly and started to giggle again. "Sorry," she said in between fits of giggles._

"_I didn't think I said something funny. Then again, whatever it was, I succeeded in making you laugh." The amusement on Fleur's face never left her._

"_No," Hermione paused, finally controlling herself. "I just imagined Frankenstein's monster, he was created in a laboratory. You see, Dr. Frankenstein created a creature and then gave life to it using bolts of lightning, I know it's absurd, but the image just jumped in my head, when you said that veelas were created rather than born."_

"_Dr. Frankenstein? Who is that?"_

"_It's a book I read a long time ago, I'm sorry, go on, you were telling me about veelas being created. So, how does it happen?"_

"_My _grand-mère_ says that veelas used to be witches." Fleur stopped when she saw the inquisitive look on Hermione's face. "Spirits of witches to be exact."_

"_Witches, you mean like me and you?"_

_Fleur nodded. "More like you, I am part-veela after all."_

"_You said 'spirits of witches,' like a ghost?"_

"Non_, ghosts and spirits are different like night and day, you know that."_

"_Right, sorry. It's just that I've never read anything about it before."_

"_You never will, the veela history is handed down orally from generation to generation, until the veela lineage is broken."_

"_So then," Hermione retorted, her full attention still focused on Fleur, she has to admit it, the woman had her way of keeping her mind off certain things. Hermione's curiosity was definitely piqued. "Veelas were spirit of witches, if they were spirits, how exactly had they taken a body of their own? I only knew of one who took a body of his own after ripping his soul apart." Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously at this. "Does it involve dark magic?"_

"_No, it doesn't," Fleur answered immediately, taken aback by Hermione's question. Hermione was still looking at Fleur, with full accusation on her face. "Hermione, I swear to you it doesn't."_

"_Alright, answer this then, how does a witch's spirit acquire a body without using any kind of Dark Magic?"_

_"Have you ever seen a pure-blooded veela?" The look of suspicion was still on Hermione's face when Fleur asked the question and the French witch wasn't sure if Hermione would answer._

_It surprised Fleur, when Hermione nodded in answer to her question, remembering the Quidditch World Cup: Bulgaria vs. Ireland, she saw with Harry and the Weasleys, before her fourth year at Hogwarts. The Bulgarian Quidditch Team brought veelas for their mascots while the Irish Quidditch Team brought leprechauns for their mascots._

_"Have you seen them dance and heard them sing?"_

_Hermione nodded again._

_"What have you noticed?"_

_Hermione closed her eyes trying to recall the events before the game. She remembered the excitement that was palpable in the air. She remembered sitting on the edge of her seat when Ludo Bagman the then commentator of the game and Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports cleared his throat and then magically amplified his voice to announce the opening of the Quidditch World Cup. She remembered when Bagman introduced the Bulgarian Mascots. She remembered that she had never seen women so beautiful that their beauty looked almost unnatural to her. She remembered her intense disliked for these creatures for it was just unbearable for her to watch them dance. She remembered her disliked for these creatures mounting more and more by the minute when the boys, specifically Harry and Ron, made them act stupid. (Harry was standing up with one of his legs resting on the wall of the box and Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked like he was about to dive from a springboard with his arms parallel to each other and extended high above his head.) Hermione opened her eyes to look at Fleur and then just shrugged her shoulders._

_"There's nothing to notice except, Harry and Ron being stupid."_

_"It was all you observed then," Fleur said as if making a conclusion about something._

_"Well, I noticed something!" Hermione protested indignantly._

_"Yes, but I was referring to the veelas that were singing and dancing, had you not noted anything else about it?"_

_"I can't recall the song, because it sounded horrible to me which was contrary to what Ron and Harry said. They said it was mesmerizing, enchanting, enthralling even but I didn't heard it that way. But what I do remember was when the veelas were dancing, I couldn't bear to look at it. It was too painful to watch, it left me with some kind of ache somewhere deep inside of me." Hermione finished in almost a whisper, a hand involuntarily clutching her chest as if she was feeling that ache now. _

_Fleur was taken aback by this answer. Without a second thought, Fleur moved closer to Hermione and took the younger witch's hand, the one clutching her chest into one of her own and then pulled her close. She didn't need to stare deep into Hermione's eyes, to know the truth in those words, she felt them, no, she didn't just felt them, she experienced it the way Hermione sensed it that long ago, no it was her veela nature that sensed it and let her experienced it for herself. "You're horrible," Hermione murmured against her chest._

"_I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel—"_

"_No," Hermione interrupted Fleur's apology, she pushed gently away, dimly aware that their fingers were laced together. "It's not that. You avoided my question with another question, that's why you're horrible."_

"_I didn't intend to, my question was part of the answer to your question."_

"_Fine then, so this singing and dancing had something to do for a witch's spirit to acquire a body?" Hermione sounded skeptical at this._

"_No, not quite, but in order for you to be able to get the full picture," Fleur paused, "to say it bluntly, the singing and dancing tells a story, the dance tells the story more rather than the song. To any other ordinary wizard or witch, the dance would be just another dance choreographed to entice and seduced and you didn't saw it that way. When a veela dances, it tells us a story. Their story; how they lived, loved and died. But the bitter irony is, not one of them could remember exactly who they were when they were witches and living humans still."_

_"Ok, I get that, but your grandmother was a pure-blooded veela and she danced and sang like how you just told me?"_

_"'Is,' present tense Hermione," Fleur corrected her smiling. _

_Hermione blushed at her assumption. "I'm sorry."_

_"It's alright. William made the same mistake as well. You should watch her dance then, maybe you can tell her the story she's forgotten." Hermione made a face at this. It was Fleur's turn to laugh. "You're thinking of an old woman dancing, am I correct?"_

"_Well, yes," Hermione was red in the face, since Fleur was right on what she was thinking. "It's your grandmum, your mum's mum, wouldn't she be old?"_

"_She hasn't aged a bit," Fleur murmured._

"_Really?"_

"_Yes, one of the thing's a veela can do."_

"_But you still haven't answered my question. So I'll take a guess then." Fleur smiled in response. "It has something to do with how a witch dies. You can't be a a full spirit if you haven't died. And also, it has something to do with possession, that's the only thing I can think of a spirit acquiring a body without resorting to really dark magic. But possession itself is dark magic, everybody knows that."_

_"Possession is not dark magic, if it's mutual. And you are partly correct." Fleur could tell that Hermione was having a hard time believing what she said._

"_Right, say that I accept that for now, so how exactly does a spirit acquire a body, through possession that has no dark magic involved?"_

"_A wish."_

"_A wish?" Hermione repeated back._

"_Yes, a wish. The answer for a spirit to acquire a body through possession without dark magic involved is a wish."_

"_Wishes don't come true."_

"_Yes, it does."_

"_This is confusing me, it's too mythical to even be true, alright say that I believed that again, how exactly are veelas born or created rather? I get the dancing and the singing part. I get that they were witches before and the way they lived and died had something to do to become a veela, I get all that. But Fleur, for a wish to come true, it has to come from a very strong feeling, that nothing could ever shake it, and don't you need a medium for a wish to actually come true?"_

"Oui, un_ Jinn."_

"_Exactly, and Jinns disappeared a long time ago, not to mention they are envoys of dark magic."_

"_Not all of them. Most Jinns are tricksters, rather than envoys of dark magic."_

"_You mean they still exist?" Hermione stopped. "Now, I'm all confused. How about we go back to something I can accept, like those witches that became veelas, tell me more about them."_

_"You understood that death is a factor, correct?" Fleur saw the younger witch nod. "The witches who became veelas, either committed suicide or were murdered."_

_"But witches die all the time either by murder or by suicide."_

_"Oui, but not all of them died by drowning nor the reason for their death is love," Fleur finished almost lamely, she tried to search for other words to phrase this, but this was all that came out._

_"Love?" Hermione questioned, she almost laughed out loud at this but then stopped herself. At first she thought it was a foolish reason, but then she remembered something that Dumbledore told Harry and then Harry told her and Ron. It was love that saved Harry from ultimately killing him, from Voldemort's Killing Curse. Love, a very powerful kind of magic, as purest as it can be and as old since time itself began._

_"Yes, love."_

_"But shouldn't love save all?"_

_"It should, but for veelas it became a curse."_

_"How so?"_

_"Veelas were witches who were frivolous and extremely vain. They played with a man or a woman's affection, making them think that they love them back and then eventually discarding them, shunning them or for some just throwing it away. They took joy in seeing suffering because of love for them," Fleur paused upon seeing Hermione's stony expression. "They're not evil," Fleur said almost immediately afraid that Hermione would think of her grandmother or herself as evil, "Yes, I admit that it might sound that way to you, but for lack of a better word, they're really not."_

"_How can they not? They even acquire a body through possession. And even if they weren't evil, what would you call it then?"_

_"Heartless," Fleur said._

_"These witches must be really beautiful or utterly brilliant potioneers," Hermione said, while thinking about those powerful love potions that Professor Slughorn mentioned during one Potions class, how it could be punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban if the Love Potion doesn't conform to the Ministry of Magic's standards. "Or both and why do I get the feeling that drowning isn't enough to be reborn as a veela?"_

"_All water has natural magic, a magic that heals and restores, you know this," Fleur said. "And if that body of water has exceptionally strong magical power, it could sustain a life on the brink of death, if you knew how to harness that kind of power. Or alternatively if you would accept this as truth, all you have to do is wish. One has to die in such a place in order to be reborn as a veela. My grandmother never told me exactly how it happens, but it just does."_

_Hermione was silent. She was taking in everything that Fleur had just told her, but she still has a lot of questions, her ever inquisitive mind was getting the better of her. She was about to ask Fleur something when the older witch interrupted her train of thoughts._

_"Whenever I think about it, these witches were given some sort of curse or punishment that's why a veela is born or created. Creatures who are so beautiful, alluring, enchanting and enthralling that they can make anyone fall in love with them with just one look, one word, or just even with a slight touch."_

_"Curse? Punishment? I don't see it Fleur, in fact weren't they just transformed into a much better version of their past lives?" Hermione said with a hint of sarcasm on her voice._

_Fleur smiled politely at this._

_"That may be how it looks like, it is true that a veela can do all those things. But there is an ugly side, a horrible creature is born as well."_

_"Do you mean that bird-like form a veela transforms into?"_

_"Yes but not quite, in a veela's lifetime, the veela can now recognize what real love is and be able to feel it herself."_

_"Isn't that a good thing?" Hermione asked._

_Fleur just shook her head._

_"Why not?"_

_"When a veela finally finds her true love, it's impossible for them to be with the one they love. A veela can't choose either, who it's going to be."_

_"That's too dramatic, even for me."_

_"I wish it were so. You see even if a veela finds her true mate, the veela cannot fall in love."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because we kill the person we love. That's why veelas only take on a mate who is suitable. Not the person that we're meant to be with. Imagine settling for the second best thing when you know you can have the best. Imagine, having a shot at your happy ending, having it within your grasp only to let it go in the end. A veela would sacrifice anything and everything, just for that one person, and if it comes to a choice, the veela would choose her mate."_

"_It's terrible. It's too much of a punishment, but it won't affect you right?" Hermione asked, something changed when Fleur told her that last bit, she was immediately concerned for the blond witch. As to why Hermione was, she just can't put her finger on it, not at that moment._

_Fleur didn't say anything, she only gave a gentle smile at Hermione. _

"_It affects you too," it finally hit Hermione. She didn't recall all of it, but Fleur explained to her why she acted the way she did that night, like a pure blooded veela, even though, there's only a quarter of veela blood in her. _

"_You remembered," Fleur answered. "But, you don't need to worry, I never had any intention of finding my mate." _

"_Even if you have no intention, you did say that you can't choose who it's going to be, what if you unexpectedly found your mate, what would you do then?"_

"_Run at full speed towards the opposite direction?" Fleur joked half heartedly, it was an outright lie, because she was doing exactly the reverse of what she said._

_Hermione exhaled a puff of air loudly. "You're unbelievable." It was now Hermione who took Fleur's hands in both her own and stared deeply into the older woman's eyes. "I will find a way around this veela curse, Fleur. I promise. Because you did nothing wrong and everybody deserves a chance to be happy."_

"_Are you serious about this?"_

"_Why not?" Hermione said, she then dropped Fleur's hands and began standing herself up. Once upright, she stretched her back and closed her eyes to feel the cold wind more on her face. She glanced at Fleur, who happened to be following her every movement. "What? Aren't we supposed to be friends? Friends help each other out, even if they don't asked for it."_

"_Hermione, I—"_

"_I'm serious, Fleur, I won't take no for an answer." Hermione interrupted holding out her hand, to help Fleur up. _

_Fleur just shook her head in response and grasp the offered hand. It felt rather nice to hold Hermione's hand like this, so she held on for a bit longer. If Hermione only knew, how much it meant to her, to actually have a chance, it was more than she could have hoped for. "Before you do anything, I think the best thing to do right now is head back to the cottage. It's almost dawn, _ma belle_, we're going to catch a cold if we stay out here, far longer more than we already should have."_

_If Hermione was conscious of their hands still intertwined she did not mind it. The younger witch was staring, unseeing into the ocean. "Naia," the younger witch murmured to herself._

_Fleur jerked her head up in response to the name she barely heard. Alarm was clearly written all over the French witch's countenance. "Hermione?" She pulled the younger witch around to face her and was shocked to see the younger witch's face drained of color. Hermione's pallor was extremely pale. She held Hermione's face in both hands, forcing the brunette, to look at her. "Stay with me," she pleaded, unsure if the younger witch heard her._

"_Fleur, whose Naia?"_

_If Fleur answered her question, Hermione did not hear it. Instead she was feeling it for the second time, that dangerous veela thrall. The odd thing was that she wasn't afraid of it, like the first time it did to her. It felt like she was being asked by it, to let it in, asking her to accept it. Hermione didn't need to say it, all she had to do was not fight it and let it take her over. Hermione closed her eyes for a brief second and then opened them once more. It was the deepest blue she had ever seen, no, it was that deep, because the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes were rapidly changing to a black color. Hermione forced herself to focus on those eyes, because if she did not, she felt like she would drown and Fleur was the only thing keeping her anchored. Pain, like she'd never known before were reflected in those semi blue orbs. It was as if Fleur knew what was happening to her. Those blue eyes, pleading with her brown ones to fight it. But Hermione lost and she was all too aware of it, because the next thing she felt was soft lips pressing into her own. It would have been nice, if Hermione didn't feel the desperation and taste the saltiness in them. It was the last thing she remembered before she fell into that darkness for the very first time._


	5. Four

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

It's a long chapter, so hopefully, you guys would read it all the way through. (^_^) And sorry if it took awhile to update, I had to make some minor changes because of the inconsistencies with this chapter from the previous chapter.

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Four**

_A dream?_

Hermione glanced over at the window, it wasn't even light outside yet. This was the third time in a row this week that she awoke before the crack of dawn. She stared up at the ceiling and focused on the familiar zigzagging lines on it, trying hard to recall every detail of the dream. Hermione wasn't certain herself, because it comes to her in bits and pieces, but last night was the most detailed she had dreamt about it, or was it even a dream? _Somehow it feels more like a memory. A memory? It couldn't be_, she thought before getting up. She walked towards the small window and opened it. Hermione breathed in the fresh morning air and could distinctly smell coffee wafting in from the kitchen below. _Bill must have brewed a pot already, I wonder what time he came in or if he just got up._ Hermione took another deep breath, before parking herself in front of her full length mirror, to give herself a quick over. She grimaced when she saw that her brown tresses were all over the place, even though Hermione had managed to tame her hair over the years, somehow it always seems to go back to being bushy whenever she'd just woken up. She sighed as her attempts to straighten out her unruly top were futile, though it wasn't as messy as earlier. _This is as good as it's going to get._

Hermione made a quick stop in the bathroom on her floor, to take a shower and to brush her teeth, before going down into the kitchen, having decided she appears decent enough to make an appearance. Hermione paused just at the entry, _Am I still dreaming?_ She wondered briefly. What she saw before her, was a scene that looks like straight out of a dream, no not a dream, more like deja vu. Mrs. Weasley would have never approved if she were here, well except for Fleur, who looked like she had taken control over the kitchen. Fleur had her hair tied up in a ponytail and was wearing a faded pink apron over her clothes and was standing between the stove and counter, directing her wand like a conductor of an orchestra, over a series of food preparations: whisking a bowl of eggs, mixing a batter of pancakes, and frying bacon, since the smell was drifting over Hermione's direction. Fleur expertly dodged a group of cutlery as it sailed past just at her head level; Ron, apparently was the one assigned to set the table.

"Ronald, you're going to hurt somebody with that," Fleur said, it was only for a split second, but Fleur turned her head to glance at Hermione, who seemed to sense the younger witch's presence and smiled. If there were any other observer in the room, it would have looked to them that Fleur never took her eyes off her cooking, except for Hermione, who unbeknownst to the younger witch herself had already trained her eye to Fleur's incredible veela speed.

"I thought it would be faster this way," Ron said, going purple in the face, since Fleur spoke his name. Hermione shook her head, after years of meeting Fleur for the first time, the youngest Weasley boy still has the ability to go purple whenever he's in near proximity of the French part-veela witch. Ron developed the habit of avoiding being in the same room alone with Fleur, but not today, Hermione surmised, Ron must be really hungry, what else could it be?

"I think I just had a vision of Fred and George, doing something like this," Harry said, he looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh at Ron's embarrassment. "Oi, 'Mione, how long are you planning to stand there? Help out will you?" Harry said, looking her way, the second one to notice her presence.

"And good morning to you too, Harry." Hermione greeted, as she sidestepped a plate stacked full of toasts as it flew towards the long wooden table. "I think you lot, have a handle on it already, I'll just wait."

"_Non, ma belle_, you're helping, we're having a big breakfast today."

"Are we having guests? We rarely do breakfast around here, since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went away on their trip."

"Oh no, don't let our 'Mione help," Ron piped in with a look of mock horror on his face.

"And what do you mean by that Ronald?" Hermione said an eyebrow raised at this.

"You're a terrible cook, sorry 'Mione I agree with Ron," Harry answered, seeing Ron dodging quickly out of Hermione's wand way.

"You're absolutely horrid, the two of you."

Fleur was watching the whole interaction between the three with amusement on her face. It was always funny to see the two boys ganging up on the brunette, but it was just that, a playful banter amongst them, something she wholeheartedly envies, wishing that Fleur could have that with Hermione as well. Even though the exchange was commonplace, Fleur also knew that this two boys, no not boys anymore but men, will always come to Hermione's rescue if ever she needed it. "If it's any consolation _mademoiselle_, I'll be happy to have whatever it is that you would make in the kitchen," Fleur said over her shoulder.

Hermione didn't miss the meaningful exchange of looks between Harry and Ron. She didn't need to guess what it could have meant as she has a pretty good idea what it could have been. Hermione glared at them when they caught her looking and exhaled a puff of air loudly in irritation. Ever since that luncheon they had, the two men, would tease her about the book at every given opportunity, more so if Fleur was in the room with them. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, give me that," Hermione pointed her wand at the coffee mugs, which Ron was levitating towards the dining table. "You're seriously going to hurt somebody with the way you're setting the table."

Sometime later, the four of them had finished the tasked of making breakfast, without any casualties, mainly on Ron's part with his haphazard kitchen magic. Fleur was an excellent cook and if Mrs. Weasley was here, Fleur would have made the woman proud, even though their relationship is something that hasn't mended yet, since Fleur divorced Mrs. Weasley's eldest son. The woman still loathe Fleur with such a passion, to the point that the French witch stayed well out of the way of the Burrow and Shell Cottage even though she was part owner of the latter place. They were all seated around the long wooden table, with Harry and Ron on one side and Fleur and Hermione on the other. They were making small talk as they all helped themselves to the breakfast they put all their effort to make, well mainly Fleur made, since she was the only one who knows how to cook.

"Something smells good in here," a voice said coming in from the doorway. Bill looked like he had just woken up, his long hair was already tied up in a ponytail, but strands are still sticking up. He was surveying the food laden table and took another deep breath of appreciation. "How come you lot are up early?" He asked, while glancing out the window, "And it's only sunrise." He took the seat at the end of the table and helped himself to a mug of coffee.

"Me and Harry just got in, we haven't gone to bed yet." Ron answered for him while helping himself to huge servings of eggs and bacons.

"Mmm," Bill sipped appreciatively at his steaming mug. "And Ginny?"

"Ginny didn't come home," Harry volunteered. "She's staying for most of the week at the Arrows' Dormitories, Quidditch Season is starting and they start practice just before dawn."

"We're not an early lot though," Bill murmured to himself, while looking over the rim of his mug to the two women, who were opting out of their small conversation. Hermione and Fleur both looked like they had another sleepless night, though Fleur was better in hiding it rather than Hermione, if he didn't bloody knew Fleur well enough, he wouldn't have been able to see the tell-tale signs that were there. How long this had gone on, Bill knew, he would have butted in a long time ago, if it weren't known that these two could be real stubborn. He smiled when Fleur caught him looking. "So what's with the breakfast? We don't do breakfast around here anymore."

"It's like what I was saying earlier, I came in here and there they were." Hermione answered, then went back to playing around with her pancakes. She was sure that it was delicious, but somehow, lately this days she barely has any appetite to eat. It's like she was coming down with something, but she wasn't entirely sure either.

"These two were making a mess in Molly's kitchen, so I decided to take over, before they ruined anything." Fleur said, giving Hermione a side glance. "You don't like your pancakes?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said looking up. "It's tastes great." She added hastily and then took a fork and sliced it into a tiny little piece before putting it into her mouth.

"Are you sure? I'll make you something else, if you want," Fleur offered, Hermione didn't miss the tone of concern on Fleur's voice.

Before Hermione could answer, she saw another meaningful exchange between Harry and Ron. It would have been fine, if Ron wasn't snickering behind his food. "Will you stop it?" Hermione finally burst out. "For the last time, we aren't da—" She stopped when she saw Bill had a bemused expression on his face. Fleur wasn't helping either, because the woman had absolutely picked up on what she was about to say, and was positively trying to hide a smile while eating. She took a deep breath, "Honestly, it's still way too early even for you two."

"No it's not, technically it's late since we haven't gone to bed yet," Ron argued, it was safe for him to speak since Hermione wasn't wearing the expression that she was about to retaliate on them. "And 'sides we are already in agreement."

"Agreement to what?" Hermione asked, giving Harry a pointed look and then shook her head. "Never mind, somehow I don't want to know." She then stood up, flicked her wand and sent her almost uneaten breakfast flying towards the kitchen sink, "I'll see you at work," Hermione said to Fleur with a small smile, before leaving through the back door and apparating towards the Ministry.

**xxxXXXxxx**

"They could be real idiots," Hermione said to herself. Once again, she was in the Great Library, doing research in regards to her work with the Department. This time, she was surrounded by three piles of research materials; the two piles on her left and right were already sorted as relevant and irrelevant material, where the third pile just a little behind her was still unsorted. When Hermione came in that morning, she went to her new spot, somewhere in the aisles of the Obscure Texts Section in the Great Library and cast a very powerful summoning charm, summoning almost all the books that has any useful information about _Jinns _and wishes, that will relate to Fate. When Hermione accepted the job offer, Hermione's fascination with magic had increased ten-fold. There was just so much more than she could have ever grasped, it's far more greater than she could have ever imagined when she first received her letter, saying that she was a witch and was accepted to study magic at Hogwarts. Before then, all this was just fantasy for her, only believing that something was seriously wrong with herself, since she could do stuff that were unexplainable and unimaginable. It was after that, is when she realized that things can be explained once you know where to start looking for the answers. So then, what better place to work for when you want to understand things right down to its simple form than the Department of Mysteries, where all the great mysteries of the world, namely, love, time, thoughts, life and death, the universe, and fate can be studied and be made into something which has a concrete form that can be touched, and not just an idea to fill the gaps of knowledge in this world?

It was already past noon, since Hermione heard the twelve o'clock bell chimes sometime ago. She rubbed her temples, to relieve the headache she had been experiencing shortly after she arrived. It was a good thing, that Fleur hasn't gone and seen her yet, she wasn't good company as of the moment and Hermione was sure, with just the right push, she would be triggering Fleur's veela instincts and she doesn't want to deal with any of that right now. She made a quick wave of her wand, a book from the pile behind floated towards her, stopping just at her eye level, from what she could read of the runic alphabets of the title, she decided to placed it on the irrelevant pile. She rubbed her temples again, her headache was getting worse. Maybe it was because, she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast or that she hasn't been getting enough sleep, but even so, her headaches weren't this bad before. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands which she propped on her knee._ How could a Jinn have anything to do with Fate?_ She thought. _Jinns have the power to make a wish come true, __but are they even related at all, I mean it's all contradicting, isn't it? _Of all the subjects, Malfoy could have assigned her to, why did it have to be as troublesome as the workings of the Wheel of Fate? Sure, Hermione would never back down from a challenge, but having delved deeper and deeper into the subject, wasn't it just better to just give up and moved on to something else? The only concrete thing, that any Unspeakable can ever make on the subject has already been done before, and that is to keep records of it. Fleur was the only Unspeakable studying the subject until Hermione came along, the only real reason why Hermione was assigned to this if she were to accept it, was because of what Draco said to her two weeks ago, that she was the only person who can work with Fleur, but up until today, Hermione's still denying that she could be the only one.

Working with Fleur, for the last eight months, was like a one hellish ride on a Ferris Wheel; and beneath it all, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Fleur was obsessed with the subject. Is she looking for her answer, by trying to meddle with Fate or even change it? But that's just incredibly insane, they should know more about it than anyone else, for anyone who had ever attempted it, had suffered something far more terrible than death, Hermione doesn't exactly know what it was, although she has read material that alluded to something like that. As the Unspeakables for the subject, all they could really do, was update whatever is known about it and perhaps provide a new understanding; why things happen the way they happen, how people meet at exactly the right moment, why some just crossed paths but were never meant to be with one another. Studying the subject, would make one conclude that there are no coincidences, maybe that was why Hermione had an uneasy feeling when Harry asked her about Brazil, it couldn't be a coincidence, right? Hermione argued with Fleur once, that if one would be negative about it, free will is just an illusion designed to manipulate one's destiny. Hermione knew that she'd be right, if she were to believe that some kind of of supreme force is controlling her life. Fleur countered then that what if, in an unanticipated moment, someone would come along, go far beyond the boundaries, dare challenge the rules, dare to defy the limits set by Fate's game, change the direction of Fate's wheels or unhinged it even, to become more than they were meant to be and who they were supposed to be, what would happen then? Hermione was unable to give an answer that time, but somehow, she had been thinking about that a lot, and knew that she had already stumbled on the answer because of Fleur or rather because of what Hermione feels about Fleur. _A_ c_ontradiction? A wish? Oh! _Hermione exclaimed to herself. _Is this what Fleur really meant all along? I thought she was referring to that man, because his existence in every aspect of what really should be is contradictory._

_But following this logic, could it be that what Fleur really wanted, is not an answer, but something more tangible, something that she could hold on to, something concrete, like the way I'm holding my wand now? _Hermione thought while staring at her wand. She made a frustrated sigh, she had to know, no, she needed to know, maybe she'll just blurt out the question when Fleur was least expecting it or something. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, all this thinking had intensified her headache. This past four months, the frequency of this headaches was increasing more and more, at first Hermione attributed it to fatigue, but she had been taking potions to help with that, no it was something else. She also noted that she tires out all too easily and there were days when she'd look in the mirror only to find herself too pale for her liking. Most of these symptoms almost always seem to happen, after Fleur veela's out, maybe that was how Fleur was affecting her. Instead of taking Hermione's rationality, she takes Hermione's life force. But it feels too stupid to even entertain that thought, the only kind of creatures known to suck away one's life, no not life but soul which would also be akin to a life force, are dementors, not veelas, and Hermione was absolutely certain that Fleur was not a dementor, it's laughable to even consider that.

Hermione made another wave with her wand, gave a quick read of the book's title that she had just levitated in front of her and placed it on the relevant pile. She rubbed her temples once more, applying more pressure on it than she had before and was about to pick up another book with her wand when she noticed _it_. It was the tattered old book that Fleur had lent her and it was sticking out from her bag. She glared at it angrily, it was the bane of Harry and Ron's merciless teasing, but curiosity got the better of her. She took it out of her bag and opened the book on a page somewhere in the middle. Hermione could feel the heat creeping up on her face as she was slowly coming to comprehend what the figures on the book was supposed to be doing, it didn't help at all that the pictures in the book were moving, she didn't notice that she had also turned it a hundred and eighty degrees the way Ron had. She took a deep gulp and skimmed the text on the page:

_**Before a veela and her lover attempts the following (see figures on page), **_

_**they must have performed the mating ritual. **_

_**See chapter on mating ritual.**_

Hermione turned the book another ninety degrees in reverse, trying to make sense of the position the figures were supposed to be in. _Bugger! Is this—_

"Curious much, _cheri_?"

Hermione dropped the book much to her chagrin and as luck would have it, the book fell open on the page she was looking at, she was about to pick it up when Fleur beat her to it and was staring at the page with interest. Fleur was giving her a sly smile and if possible Hermione's face had risen up to another degree. "Even if I was, who would I do it with? Not that it concerns you." She answered, recovering quickly and snatching the book away.

"How many other veelas do you know aside from me and my family?" Fleur answered the smirk never leaving her face. "I would be very happy to teach it to you, how do you say it, it would be a very good learning experience, _non_?"

Did Fleur just proposed to her indecently? It couldn't be, and if she was, Hermione would just turn down the proposal or would she? Hermione was about to retort back with something insinuating just to get back at Fleur, when she realized that the older witch was trying to suppress her laughter. "You're teasing me, stop it, I have enough of that from Ron and Harry, I don't need it from you."

"I'm sorry, it was just too hard to resist, and besides you really look beautiful when you're angry."

Once again, Hermione doesn't have an answer to Fleur, how the bloody hell does the French witch renders her speechless? Just when Hermione thought, she had blushed enough for her lifetime, she felt her face flushing again, so she cleared her throat, "Have you found anything new that could relate to our study?" Hermione assumed that was the reason, why Fleur was looking her up now. It was agreed upon during Hermione's period of sanction, that both would research on their own pace, but if one found something new or relevant, it was also agreed that they would discuss it with one another before proceeding with the next step or conferring it with their Head of Department.

"_Non_," Fleur said. She conjured a large brown paper bag out of thin air and gave it to Hermione.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, taking the paper bag. She opened it, to see that there were a couple of sandwiches inside, an apple and a carton of milk. "Thank you," Hermione murmured, "but I'm not hungry."

"I know, but you barely eat anything this days, I'm worried."

"I didn't think anyone would notice," Hermione said quietly.

"I would always notice," Fleur answered only to see the younger witch giving her a strange look. "Have I said something out of the ordinary?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing, it's just that I've heard you said it before, in a dream, I think." Hermione was watching Fleur as the blond witch conjured a stool, and set it down right next to Hermione's discard pile. "Weren't you suppose to be in a meeting with Draco, to give him updates on our progress?"

"_Oui_, but I still have time. Also, I want to make sure, that you at least eat something."

"And you're not leaving until I do so."

"_Non._"

"Even if it makes you late?"

"_Oui_."

"Sometimes, you could be unbelievable." Fleur ignored Hermione's statement and picked up the topmost book on her discard pile and began reading it. Hermione rubbed her temples again, as she took out the apple and bit loudly on it. She observed Fleur for awhile, taking in as Fleur flipped the page from one to the next, Hermione frowned when she recognized that the text Fleur was reading weren't written in modern day letters. "I didn't know you could speed read runic alphabets."

"_Oui_," Fleur said. Fleur's face began clouding up more and more as she continued reading to the last pages of the book. She looked up, catching Hermione's eyes on her, "Have you read this?" Fleur asked handing Hermione the book.

"No, I wasn't planning to." Hermione took it and opened it on the first page, on it was the same figure that they had discovered drawn on the page of the book that Fleur had found yesterday. She closed the book and stared at it, Hermione could only make out the word _tale_ from her rudimentary translation of the title that was why she placed it on the discard pile. "What is it about?"

"It's a fairytale."

"A fairytale? Not another one of those," Hermione said.

Fleur smiled at the younger witch, only because she was glad to see that Hermione had already eaten half of the apple. "I thought you liked fairytales, I seem to remember you reading that one book, over and over again, when you sought shelter, back during the war."

"Yes, that was different. Beedle's tales were based on facts, but he uses too many allegories, that the actual events that really transpired were lost to children's bedtime stories."

"Not lost, Hermione, but hidden."

"Right, and he also used," Hermione added glancing at the book, "almost the same kind of runic texts, so there isn't really an exact way to translate his tales, well, not unless, the runic alphabet would become a lifelong study for an individual." Hermione threw the core of the apple she had eaten back inside the paper bag and took out a sandwich. Hermione was unaware that Fleur was watching her, the blond witch only spoke after Hermione took a bite.

"I think, it would interest you _mademoiselle_," Fleur said standing up, satisfied that the younger witch had at least filled her stomach with something, "that he, Beedle also penned that book."

"What?" Hermione answered, looking down on the book on her lap. "I don't see his name anywhere."

"He signed his name, under his dedication, just before the last story, that he never finished writing," Fleur flicked her wand once more, and the stool that she was sitting on, vanished into thin air.

"Are you leaving already?" Hermione said throwing the remainder of her sandwich, after taking three bites back into the bag.

"_Oui_," Fleur nodded and started walking back down the aisle towards the entrance of the Great Library.

Hermione brushed the bread crumbs off her lap all the while thinking, _Fleur can't leave just yet, I still have to ask her that. Maybe it was a bad idea_, Hermione added, _but— _"Fleur?" Hermione finally blurted out loud. _Bugger! Here we go_.

Fleur stopped and turned around to face Hermione. "Is there something wrong?" Hermione looked as if she was going to be sick, so Fleur shortened the distance between them and crouched down in front of Hermione, scrutinizing the younger witch's pale pallor.

Hermione moved back a couple of inches. _Is there something wrong with my face? Fleur seemed worried. _Fleur placed a palm on Hermione's forehead and touched her own with the other hand. "I'm fine," Hermione said.

"What is it? You don't look well, I noticed that earlier."

"No, it's not that," Hermione took a deep breath steeling herself. "It's just that I wanted to ask you something, and it seems really important that I know." Fleur nodded while straightening up, Hermione thought it odd for Fleur to take a few steps back, but then again, it would have been better that way. Hermione realized it too late, she had pushed a button, Hermione doesn't exactly know what, but it was hard to miss the shadow that was beginning to form on the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes. How had everything shifted so fast? One minute, they were sharing each other's company amiably and now, it was full of something else. Perhaps, Hermione ought to read the book, from front to back, and not just open it randomly on any page that would suit her fancy. But even so, Hermione had already opened that door and she was not about to go back. If Fleur was about to do something stupid, Hermione ought to know what is, and maybe help avert the dire consequences that awaits. One thing was for sure, Hermione would hate it, if something bad happens to the French witch. Maybe her timing was wrong, but it couldn't be helped. "Remember, yesterday, when I asked you about why you quit your job at Gringotts to work here, you said you seek an answer." Another deep breath, thankfully Fleur was remaining silent and she had her fingers massaging the muscle between her eyes just above the bridge of her nose. Maybe Fleur was trying to control the slew of emotions that she was sensing from Hermione, and that was a good thing right? "Honestly, is the reason why you chose to work on this subject is because you want to change something?"

Fleur gazed directly into Hermione's searching brown eyes, then looked away but answered nonetheless, she could have chosen to answer indirectly, but found that it was just better to tell the truth, Hermione would have figured it out eventually, "If I was, would it change your opinion of me?"

"No, but I'd say you're being foolish."

"Exactly what my _grand-m__è__re_ said."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control the wave of dizziness that was passing her right now, Hermione opened her eyes to find that the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes were already coated in black, but Hermione didn't stop her line of questioning. "Are you certain about this? You're being stubborn, you can't tamper with fate, we know this, things end up the way they do for a reason."

"What if it's an absurd reason, aren't you even going to question it?"

"Yes I would, and if the answer doesn't satisfy me, what right have I to go against it?"

"You have every right to go against it! That is what I believe, what if you knew that something bad will happen to something or someone very important to you, would you still sit back and let it happen?"

"When you say it like that, no." Hermione paused, that Hermione could understand and accede to. "But what could be so bad, that you want to meddle with fate, even though you knew that whatever the price for that action is too much to bear?"

"It's my veela blood, it truly runs potent in my veins, and it just keeps on pushing and pushing, to the point that I can't push back anymore," Fleur stopped and then took a deep breath, it seemed to Hermione that Fleur was counting in her head, trying to calm herself down. She crossed her arms over her chest then continued, "even if I had a choice, I wouldn't want it any other way. A veela will give anything and everything for her mate and—"

"And if it comes to a choice, the veela would choose her mate," Hermione finished for Fleur. The older witch was looking at her strangely again. _Bloody hell_, Hermione thought. _Did Fleur—_

"How did you know?" Fleur asked, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.

"A memory that felt like a dream, now I can be sure, that it wasn't a dream, I just don't know why I forgot it." Hermione rubbed her temples again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you found your mate. If I give it much thought, that's the only reason that would drive you to do something as asinine as this."

"I had no intention of telling you." Fleur answered, in a very calm voice, it was as if she was forcing their topic of conversation to end. And, Hermione was having none of that, in fact the younger witch felt _betrayed_?

"Why not? Do you really think so little of me, that I wouldn't notice that something is up with you?" Hermione couldn't help it, that her voice was rising. She was upset that Fleur didn't trust her enough, to tell her something as important as finding her mate. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'm your friend—"

"That's the problem!" Fleur exclaimed, matching Hermione's rising temper, the older witch having failed to calm herself down. "You are my friend, and I can't ask for anything more—"

"How would you know, if you wouldn't even ask?" Hermione angrily answered. She stood up, so forcefully that she knocked over the stool that she was sitting on, hitting the pile of unsorted books behind, enveloping them in a cloud of dust. "If I can give it to you, I will!"

It seemed that the silence stretched for eternity before Fleur answered. The dust hadn't settled yet, when Fleur asked in a voice that sounded defeated, "Hermione, have you ever considered the idea, that you could mean more to me than just a friend?"

"I—" Hermione began, but found that she had nothing to say. Instead of waiting for Hermione to finish her answer, the younger witch saw Fleur leaving through the cloud of dust.

**xxxXXXxxx**

It was late into the night when Hermione arrived at the Burrow, and the moment she had apparated, she fervently wished she hadn't come home. Surveying the scene before her, a drinking party was well under way. She wasn't really in a party mood, it was because she was still having her dizzy spells. Alternatively, Hermione wishes, that the scene that afternoon hadn't happened too. It also took awhile for the dust to cleared up, after Fleur left. Hermione also took her time, in cleaning up that aisle, only because she wasn't in a hurry to come home. She really doesn't want to face Fleur when she gets back. It was because of Fleur's last question that had her stuck. What could have Fleur meant? How could she be more than just a friend? It wasn't even an idea to consider, for her to be something more, that stuff just doesn't happen at least not to Hermione. Hermione was fine being in the sidelines, but for her to become center stage, that was another thing. She gave it a long thought that afternoon, and all she came up, were two conclusions that she wasn't entirely satisfied with. Maybe, it would be her role in helping Fleur, do the impossible, that is plausible, after all, everybody around her, keeps saying that she's the brightest witch of their time, and if she really applied herself, she could pass Dumbledore himself, but Hermione never had that kind of ambition. The other conclusion would be that, _No, because it's too stupid, because if I was, I would have known of it since I was fourteen. _But that second thought, once conceived, had been nagging on Hermione's head constantly, like an itch somewhere in her back, that she just can't seem to reach in order to scratch.

Hermione quickly darted her eyes in every direction of the backyard. It was a star filled night, the atmosphere just right, not too cold and not too humid either, and it also happens to be a weekend night, maybe that's why everybody was here. It was also a good thing that the music entertaining the night was blaring to an ear-splitting level, making the loud crack of her apparition go unnoticed, except for one, Hermione didn't need to turn her head to know who it was, she just knew. She decided to sneaked in inside using the front door, because if she used the back door, it was a sure thing that she would get roped into the festivities. She could also use a cloaking charm, but that's just too much effort and with a crowd full of powerful witches and wizards, the effort would seem useless. Hermione was still preoccupied with her thoughts when she skirted over the corner of the Burrow, the front door only just yards away, when she jumped because someone was calling her name loudly, drawing attention to her.

"Oi, 'Mione! Where're you sneaking off to?"

Hermione stopped and faced the person who called her out. She smiled when she saw who it was, "I reckon, nowhere near my bed, George."

George enveloped her in a bear hug and felt herself being lifted a couple of inches off the ground. "You look pale and awful," he said after setting her down.

"Quite an astute observation you have there, so can I be excuse?"

"No, not on my watch, besides, I have the perfect remedy for your woes." He answered grabbing Hermione's wrist and leading her, right into the table set up on the lawn which was groaning amidst the weight of all the drinks and food piled high, only stopping when people would greet her arrival.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, at the assortment of alcoholic drinks she was seeing. "George," she said, while watching George picked out different bottles of every size and shape, with every kind of color, from dark brown, to golden yellow, green, red, blue and placing them back quickly, searching for something to give Hermione, "did you just robbed a liquor store?"

"Ah, here we go," he said, holding up a bottle with clear liquid on it. "I wouldn't, how could you think that about me?" He asked, feigning hurt in his voice.

Hermione took the bottle that George had opened and was handing out to her and gave George a puzzled look. "Vodka? Really?"

"I thought a concoction would do you nice, but then it feels like you need something stronger."

"Nevertheless, but vodka? I didn't know you were even familiar with muggle alcoholic drinks."

"No thanks to you and Harry," he pouted as he led Hermione towards a couple of bean bags, that looked like it had been thrown in the lawn, as an afterthought. "But never mind that, I was looking for a new idea for the joke shop, and I came up with something like this, what do you think?" He gestured around him.

Hermione took a long sip from her bottle and looked around the backyard with much more attention than she had prior to being dragged here. Various people, whom Hermione knew well, were in varying states of drunken stupor. Ron who looked liked had passed out already with spit trickling down his chin. Harry and Ginny, who were displaying their affection with much vulgarity than the couple would have ordinarily. Percy and Charlie who were engaged in an argument which looked like would turn into a brawl any moment now. Angelina and Penelope who appeared to be consoling a crying Katie, and looked as if the two were about to cry too. Bill who had a needy and clingy look on his face while talking to Fleur. And Fleur while ignoring Bill, was watching Hermione with more predation than usual, like she was about to devour the younger witch whole. Hermione tore her eyes away from Fleur and took another swallow, forcing her attention back on George. "It's still a lawn, with drunk people in it," she remarked acidly.

George smiled wickedly. "Exactly." He plopped down on the bean bag noisily and patted the empty space next to him.

Hermione took the offered seat, as comprehension dawned on her. "You charmed the drinks!" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron has an unusual high tolerance for alcohol because of his metabolism. Harry would be too embarrassed to do anything like what he's doing to Ginny now, especially in front of his family." Hermione stopped and glared at George.

"And what else?" He prodded.

"Charlie has always been good natured and would never picked a fight, especially with Percy, whom all of you consider as the weakest brother in terms of physical strength. Katie, Angelina and Penelope, I have no idea what they would be crying about though." She finally smacked George in the arm as hard as she could.

"Ow!" He cringed rubbing the spot in his arm where Hermione had hit him. Of course, George didn't miss the fact, that Hermione said nothing about Fleur and Bill, he grinned inwardly at this. "Relax, the effect will wear off soon enough. Besides I'm still testing the product, and what better place to experiment than with my own family."

"I gave up a long time ago in reprimanding you," Hermione said, settling on the crook of George's arm. "I think, Fred would be disappointed, seeing you resort to this kind of pranks."

"No, 'Mione, you got it all mixed up, Fred would be laughing his arse off, if he's watching us wherever he is."

"Let me guess, you invented some sort of truth serum, that would bring about, a drinker's true emotions, once alcohol touches the drinker's lips, and it would only work with alcoholic beverages," Hermione said, then straightened up, only to smack George in the arm again. "You do not get to play with people's emotions!"

"Whoa! Hold on there, 'Mione, you got it wrong. It wasn't a truth serum, I would never—" George corrected the younger witch, "never touch that stuff. Years ago, Fred had this idea already, it only happened because of Lupin and Tonks. Bill and Charlie were there too, in order for us, to finally get the two of them to admit their feelings for each other, we needed to get them drunk. You are aware of the effects of alcohol don't you? Tonks, is a really good drinker, the tables were quickly turning on us, so Fred said, what if there was a potion to speed things up. In the end, the two of them got together without any help from us."

"So basically, it just brings out strongly whatever is already simpering beneath the surface."

"Correct."

"In other words, Ron wants to get plastered tonight, Harry and Ginny, I have nothing to say about that and Charlie really wants to take a swing at Percy."

"We all do, even just once, he's still that pompous stiff prat."

Hermione shook her head. "Fred had good intentions, although it goes the other way for you." Hermione drank again from her bottle, unaware that she had already finished half of it already.

George laughed at that, "Let's raise a toast to Fred then, cheers!"

"Cheers!" Hermione echoed.

"Now that's covered, so tell me what's it like?" The mood between them taking in a lighter note, George casually draped his arm around Hermione's shoulders so the brunette shifted her position and was about to settle comfortably on the crook of George's arm only to lean away for she could feel someone, burning holes on her back. George, also didn't miss those times, that Hermione would turn her head in Fleur's direction and was smiling inwardly again. It wasn't lost on the mischievous twin what had happened.

"Stop teasing me, I already have enough of that from Harry and Ron."

"That is exactly the reason why I'm teasing you."

If Hermione was appalled, she was having a hard time concealing it, so the only recourse she took was to take a long drink from the bottle of vodka she was holding and almost emptying it. "They bloody told you, I'm going to kill them."

"My galleons on you, they wouldn't stand a chance even they are Aurors." He chuckled.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hermione stared at her almost empty bottle and began speaking to it. "back to your question, if you're asking about me dating, Fleur, the answer is no, why couldn't they get that through their thick heads?"

"That was not what I was asking, but since you mentioned it—"

"There's nothing to mention! Why couldn't you just asked me what I've been to or something similar?" Hermione retorted back, placing her almost empty bottle on the ground.

"As if you're going to tell me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, that's not possible, unless you want me to disintegrate."

George laughed. "No, although that would be interesting to see."

Hermione smacked George in the arm a third time and they both started laughing out loud. "Hey, I think Luna and Neville, just apparated in." Hermione said squinting at their apparation spot, were two figures just appeared. "You didn't invite everybody, did you?"

"Who me?" George said, feigning his classic look of innocence at the accusation in Hermione's voice. "Of course not, word just got around. Besides, about time, that bloke popped in, I've been waiting for him. Unlucky for you, I spotted you when you were sneaking your way in." He finished with a grin.

Hermione had an eyebrow raised. "Are you doing something illegal?"

"No, of course not, as if Longbottom would do something illegal."

"If it is a deal with you, then he might be, unknowingly, because of your trickery."

"Then don't ask," he grinned again and turned his attention on Neville. "Oi, Neville!"

Hermione just shook her head in amusement. She really couldn't blame George, even if he's acting cheery and all that, she knew that he misses Fred terribly. Of course, Hermione would never know what it would feel like losing a brother, since she was an only child, but the Weasleys always treated her and Harry as one of their own, and Hermione wasn't a stranger about the pain of losing a member of her family although not the way how George felt.

Being left alone, Hermione began to contemplate her own thoughts, her head was spinning from all the the thinking she had been doing that afternoon, and also from translating that runic texts on Beedle's manuscript. It would have been faster and easier if Beedle's handwriting wasn't messy and miniscule or she could have charmed herself to be able to speed read like Fleur could, but then again, there are no shortcuts in being able to do something like that, it's a skill acquired. She really needed to get some shut eye, her headache reaching to an almost intolerable level, but with a raucous crowd like this, and with George around to make sure, everybody was here, she doubted that very much. She could cast a powerful Silencing Charm or drink a very strong potion of _Draught of the Living Death, _or even placed a strong ward on her door, but as she had assessed earlier, those efforts would be rendered useless. She closed her eyes for a moment, for she was really feeling light-headed, fully aware that she didn't do herself any favors by almost finishing the bottle of vodka George had given her. With her eyes closed, she willed her thoughts to shift to something else aside from Fleur, to be content to rest for awhile and to listen to the music playing. George had thought of everything, making the music play loudly, but if one were to engaged in a conversation, one could hear themselves and the other over the music. Hermione leaned back on the bean bag and stretched her legs before her, now fully enjoying listening to The Weird Sisters, liking the softer tempo and rhythm that the song had turned into. She was swaying her head now to the beat of music as the song was nearing its end. A new track then began playing, she mused that this was a different kind of music from The Weird Sisters, noting the haunting goth like quality of it rather than their usual loud rock genre.

As soon as the guitar intro kicked in, with Hermione's eyes closed, she let the music take her over. At first it was just her head swaying to the rhythm and then her foot tapping and then eventually her body waving like silk and moving in time with the music. It was as if all her sensibility had left her and in its place a new side had taken over. A more primal and sensual one, something that she had forgotten a long time ago and was now being remembered. She half opened her eyes, stood up and began dancing and moving in a way she never did before. Understanding the meaning of the song, the song of two people, one hiding her emotions, while the other one telling her to let them go and release it or else they will end up driving each other into insanity. She let her body tell all this, not caring whether all eyes were upon her. She did not think of what her friends will say to her or how they will react seeing her like this, well hey, she could always blame it on the potion that George had mixed with the alcohol afterwards, since George had charmed all of their drinks anyway. Hermione betting, that George would never tell his brothers, sister and friends that he was testing out a product on them, not unless he would want them to get even with him.

Hermione was now twirling and swaying in an alluring fashion. A trance-like feeling was quickly falling in the atmosphere which was emanating from her movements. Her breathing even, her body flowing like water and moving in perfect harmony with the haunting melody of the music, her hips moving in a languid mesmerizing way, her face full of mystery and sultriness as well as an intense passion so deep that she wasn't even aware was there. It was as if she was not dancing to the music but the music dancing her. This hidden part of Hermione's was now in full revelation, conveying to the outside world that it wants to be noticed. She began to whirl round and round matching the rhythm of the song that had started slow but was now pulsating faster and faster and then coming to a halt. Hermione was breathing hard, her hair looking windswept, her eyes fully open and was staring directly at Fleur a hand held out, inviting, beckoning the veela, compelling it to join her dance. _Dance with me. Dance with me, Fleur. _If Hermione was conscious that she even thought of it, Hermione would never know.

If Hermione had known, that she had captured the attention of everyone around her, Hermione would have stopped. But she didn't, at that time, everything had seemed to fade and the only thing that Hermione can see was Fleur. Hermione saw through the haze of the enchantment that she herself had created, that someone had tried to dissuade the veela, didn't they know that it was futile to do so, once the veela was roused? Hermione smiled seductively as Fleur laced her fingers with her, an arm snaking around Hermione's waist pulling her close, claiming her. The trance-like feel that Hermione had induced, had now transformed to something bewitching when Fleur joined her storytelling. For that was what they was doing, telling the story of the music with their bodies. Hermione had no real consciousness of what was happening either, it was like she had fully surrendered to this unfamiliar force, for she only felt it when Fleur spun her around a hand never leaving her waist, but still holding her close, her back pressed intimately on Fleur's front. Hermione felt it when a hand strayed exploring her upper body as if laying claim to it where no man had ever done before. She felt it when the hand on her waist went down to her thighs and then brushed her skirt up, exploring the skin underneath there where no man had ever gone before. She felt it when this other storyteller, Fleur, moved in exactly the same way as her, but not copying her, but rather complementing her and completing her story in a way she would exactly want it to be completed. It was a dance so captivating and enchanting that they had induced a possessive, present yet ethereal power that made whoever was watching fall under their spell.

Hermione did not really care the rhyme and reason that time, but all she felt was that she was found, that she was seen and that that she was complete. If Fate had a hand in this, Hermione didn't really care to find out, all she knew was that, this was how it was supposed to be, this is where and who she belonged to. Hermione was once again spun around as the music was nearing its end. Their bodies almost melding into one, that Hermione didn't know where her body ends, and where Fleur begins. Her chocolate brown orbs meeting with what were once deep blue eyes, as blue as the deepest part of the ocean whose depths she could not even begin to fathom, but has now turned so dark which Hermione found beautiful in its purity.

Intense heat were radiating from both their bodies, faces almost touching, their eyes both searching for answers to questions that were never dared asked, noses grazing, lips almost kissing. Hermione's heart was pounding heavily inside her chest, fearing that Fleur's veela senses could hear it. She could almost feel the kiss coming, but something felt vaguely wrong. Her eyes were feeling heavy, she felt the blackness coming in fast to claim her and the last thing she saw before closing her eyes to succumbed to the darkness, was Fleur's beautiful and exquisite face, her eyes returning back to their normal hues, were contorted in so much agony as if she could do nothing to save Hermione from the onslaught of Fate's deathly hold.

_This has happened before, what are you keeping from me Fleur? Please, don't be sad. _These were Hermione's last thoughts, before falling into that dark pit of nothingness, not ever realizing that the bewitching spell that had fallen over them was broken.


	6. Five

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

Sorry for the short chapter, I fully intended to include Beedle's Tale of the Maiden and the Moon here, but for some reason I can't get it right, I have like seven different version that starts and ends the same way, but the middle part gets all confusing, so I guess I'll just include it in later chapters, if it works itself in. (T_T) I haven't done a lot of editing on this one, I know, it's lazy and sorry it took awhile to update, and yeah the first part is slow, I had a hard time with the transition from the previous chapter to this one, one of the reasons why it took so long. If you have any ideas or suggestions to improve this chapter, let me know, I would gladly edit it, but still I hope you like this one, however short it may be. (^_^)

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Five**

It seemed that Hermione found herself in another one of her falling dreams, the same dream she had since she was fourteen, the dream in which she always wakes up just before hitting the ground. Even though she's had this dream, countless of times already, she always hated the sensation of falling, groping wildly in the air for the support or anchor that will never come, and the heart-stopping moment as she rushed below, which always leaves her gasping for air upon waking up. But something felt oddly wrong with this dream, it was taking her a long time to fall, in her dreams she always had her eyes closed, but this time she opened them, trying to comprehend the surreal quality of this dream. It was endlessly dark, yet she could hear the rushing of the wind in her ears, the sting of it on her face, making her eyes water. She tried peering at the inky blackness below, trying to make out, what kind of ground would break her fall, but that's useless isn't it? She always wakes up, just before crashing, always.

_And if you don't wake up, what will you do? _

"I always wake up," she answered. Not thinking it weird, that someone or something was with her, after all this was a dream, right?

_But, what if you don't? _The voice insisted.

For some reason, Hermione was annoyed. This was her dream, she can control what happens in her dreams and she will wake up. But nevertheless, she answered the annoying voice. "Then I'll crash and wake up."

_If you fall, you die, you will never wake up._

Hermione against her better notions should have ignored the voice, but it was something with the way, the voice said those words, made her falter. There was certainty in that voice, what if she never wakes up, Hermione all too suddenly felt her mortality like she had never before, even when she was awake, and living in the dangerous life that comes with her job in the Ministry. "I don't want to die," she said in a helpless voice, cracking as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

_None of that now, what you need to do is to fly, so you won't fall._

"I can't fly, I don't have wings."

_Yes you do, like this. _The voice answered as a form was materializing out of thin air. Hermione would have screamed, if at that moment her vocal chords were still human, instead a horrible screech sounded out.

"What are you?" She cawed out, or that is what she meant to say.

_I think you know._

Even before Hermione could form out a reply, talons as sharp as razors, began clawing her face, grasping her shoulders forcing her to fall faster than she was falling now.

"I don't want to die..."

Hermione bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath. She was clutching her sheets, like it was some sort of lifeline, her eyes unseeing in the darkness, it was eerily quiet, as if some sort of Silencing Charm had been cast about the entire room she was in. _Where am I? _She thought. She surveyed the room around her, her breathing, eventually returning to normal, as she saw familiar yet strange objects in the room as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. She slowly turned her head to the door and then glared at it, thinking that somebody must be awfully rude to be pounding at her door mercilessly at this time of night, until she realized that the pounding was in her head. Her grip slackened on the sheets and she slumped forward, cradling her throbbing head in one of her hands. Hermione grimaced to herself, trying to recall the events of that night, only to find she was coming up blank. _What happened? How did I lose consciousness?_

Hermione stayed like that for a few more minutes, until finally deciding that there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep, not because it would be uncomfortable with her head all pounding like that, but because of that dream or more like nightmare which was waiting for her the moment she closes her eyes. Something must have happened to trigger that nightmare, that part she was certain, but as to what she has no idea, it was irksome, that for all her higher brain functions, they were all useless at the moment, to even form a coherent series of events. Hermione carefully swung her feet at the side of her bed, trying to minimize any sudden movements, lest she wanted to throw up, right then and there. _Hangover_, she thought ruefully. _I had too much to drink, if you call one bottle of vodka too much. Then again, George did laced the drink with an experimental potion,_ somehow even that excuse sounded flimsy to he_r._

Hermione was staring long and hard at the door. Somehow, she knew she needed to get out, else she finds herself inside that nightmare again. As she stared, bits and pieces of the events that night were coming back to her. She arrived home late, and was unwittingly dragged into a drinking party, for how else could she have drank a full bottle of vodka. She was talking with George, for how else could she have remembered that George laced their drinks. There was the music of course and then after that, after that.. still nothing. Hermione sighed, all this thinking was not making her headache any better, hence she decided a cold shower might help. It always does anyway, it always seems to dull whatever aches and pains her body experiences inside and out.

A few moments later, Hermione was stepping out of the bathroom, her pounding head was now reduced to a tolerable level of pain. She paused and shivered in the hallway before darting quickly back into her room. She stopped, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her hair still tied up in a bun, since she didn't want it get wet. It was her sickly pallor, that made her stop, it was one of those days again, and in the back of her mind, her rational thoughts were forcing her to acknowledge that Fleur had veela'd out, for how else could she explain the immediate changes of her physical well-being.

"What are you doing to me, Fleur?" she asked her reflection. She made another involuntary shiver, and finally proceeded to her wardrobe where Hermione dressed herself in her favorite boxers and a plain white tee. She should have gone to bed, but then again, the feeling of dread was coming back to her and she really didn't want to fall asleep, not with that horrible creature from her dream still lingering in her mind.

She had every intention of going down towards the kitchen, to see if they still had some Sleeping Potion around, when she found herself after descending the flight of stairs, turning a corner and was now facing Fleur's door. _What am I doing here? _She thought, perplexed that she would even be standing outside Fleur's bedroom. She gave herself a mental shake before wheeling around, only to find herself face to face with Fleur.

"Hermione?"

Two things Hermione noticed crossed Fleur's features before returning to its normal indifferent expression, or it could be that the dim lighting in the hallway was playing tricks on her eyesight coupled with the dull throbbing of her head. One was that a look of relief flooded the French woman's countenance, which was immediately followed by concern both of which has now completely disappeared. "Oh right," Hermione shifted uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed that she was caught lurking outside Fleur's bedroom. "I was wondering if you have by any chance a uhmm, Sleeping Potion," she turned her face sideways, trying to look at anything and everything but Fleur.

"_Non, __J__e suis désolé_."

"That's alright, I'll see if there's still some in the kitchen," Hermione answered, while brushing past Fleur to get to the next flight of stairs down. Hermione knew she swayed and wobbled because the next thing she noticed was Fleur's arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her. Hermione felt the heat creeping up her cheeks, her embarrassment increasing ten-fold.

"Hermione, you need to lie down," Fleur said softly.

"I know, just as soon as I take a Sleeping Potion."

"I don't think we still have some left," Fleur paused, and then moved away from Hermione, but instead of letting go, the older woman took hold of her hand and pulled Hermione towards her bedroom. "Go inside and wait for me," Fleur said after opening her door, "I'll make you some tea."

Hermione should have said no, but before she can do so, Fleur was already disappearing down the flight of stairs. On another day, Hermione would have taken her time and observed Fleur's room, maybe even opened some drawers and rummage through Fleur's stuff, not a healthy habit mind you, but more like out of curiosity. But not tonight, instead she made her way on Fleur's unkempt bed, and drew up her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, she propped her head on top of her knees, fighting the urge to fall asleep, refusing to let that creature in her dream win over her. It's childish really, to be afraid of a dream, but the truth is, Hermione was scared. _If you fall, you die, you will never wake up. _It seemed that the voice of the creature was still taunting her, in her sleep deprived condition. It wasn't exactly a Sleeping Potion that she wanted, more like the dreamless state that comes with it, once you take a high enough dosage.

Fleur found Hermione in that position upon returning a few minutes later, holding a cup of steaming tea in her hand. She placed the cup on her bedside table and then sat down next to Hermione placing a gentle hand on the younger witch's shoulder.

Hermione's head shot up quickly upon feeling the contact on her shoulder, afraid that she had fallen asleep while waiting for Fleur and that the creature was once again clawing at her with its sharp talons, it was quickly followed by a grimaced of pain. "Fleur, sorry, I was lost in thought."

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"I should probably head back up, I'm sorry to trouble you. I'm actually feeling a lot better now."

Fleur frowned at that. Hermione could almost tell what Fleur was thinking, didn't always Fleur said, that Hermione can't lie to her. She knew that Fleur felt her fear, when the older woman touched her. Hermione knew for certain, because of the tell-tale signs that was evident in Fleur's eyes. "Honestly, Hermione," Fleur answered, a trace of annoyance on her voice.

"Right, sorry," Hermione murmured and before she lost her nerve, she jumped up from Fleur's bed and raced her way back upstairs to her room. She immediately regretted her rash actions, as she was digging her nails on her door frame for support, it was all she could do, to not pass out again. "I'm being stupid," she said to herself.

"Oui, you are," a voice answered behind her. A hand was placed on top of her own coaxing her fingers to relax her grip, which Hermione eventually did.

"I'm fine, I can manage on my own."

She only heard a soft tut tutting reply, admonishing her gently. Until Hermione finally gave up and then let Fleur led her slowly back to her bed. If Hermione was protesting, it was definitely falling on deaf ears, as Fleur tucked her in.

"Go to sleep, cheri, we can talk in the morning if you want."

If truth be told, Hermione thought it strangely comforting for Fleur to be doing this. No, it wasn't comforting, more like, safe. With Fleur she feels safe and isn't it what the older witch had always seem to done so, for so long. Keeping her safe and unharmed, getting annoyed if Hermione was being stupid and getting herself unnecessarily hurt. She closed her eyes, for once her terror of the night disappearing quickly only to find that as soon as Fleur's presence began to leave her, that horrible creature would soon take her over.

It was reflex if she was to be asked, but Hermione grabbed Fleur's hand, before the older witch could turn to go. She opened her eyes sleepily, raising her covers, covering her mouth and said, "Don't leave."

Fleur hesitated. There was indecision written all over her face. She was sure that this was not a good idea, but seeing Hermione like this, for once letting her in, instead of pushing her away, was more welcome than it ought to be. She would regret this decision probably, but not tonight. She was about to sit down next to the younger witch, when Hermione pulled her blanket up, inviting Fleur to lay beside her. Fleur gave another defeated sigh, and then climbed in next to Hermione, as soon as she settled, Fleur felt Hermione curling up next to her.

"You were sad, twice now," Hermione murmured sleepily. "I don't know why, but it seems that I made you sad, I'm really, really sorry Fleur."

"No, it's not your fault. It will never be your fault." Fleur swallowed a lump in her throat. "You should sleep."

"You won't leave?"

"I'll stay as long as you want me to."

Hermione nodded, she felt Fleur's lips on her forehead and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

**xxxXXXxxx**

Three days, twenty two hours and eighty minutes, no make that eighty six minutes, Hermione corrected after glancing quickly at her watch. No, it's not that she was counting the time passing, even though that's how it may seem like, but that's not it. Those days, were the days that she had successfully managed to avoid Fleur, correct that, not totally avoided but close to it. Since, Hermione made it a point that every time she was in the same room as Fleur, that there would be say, another department worker or Bill, Harry and Ron between them. And if that's not the case, she would get out as fast as she can without seeming to be rude, because the last thing that Hermione wanted was to be alone with Fleur. The last time Hermione was alone with Fleur, was a memory she care not to relieved. It was mortifying enough as it is, she was way too clingy even for her tastes and it annoys her to no end, that she eventually broke down and showed a moment of weakness and all because of a silly nightmare. _But it's not silly is it? _Her rational mind seemed to answer. _Why else would you be out here, getting yourself chilled to the bone, instead of sleeping as you should be. _Hermione shook her head, unable to deny that what her brain was telling her was true.

Hermione let a shiver passed through her. It was a quiet night, except for the hooting of an owl from one of the trees that was surrounding the pond near the Burrow. Hermione could have opted to stay at the kitchen where it was warm and brightly lit after finishing her task, but thought against it, it was a cool night anyway and the moon was full, so even though she wasn't faring any better since awaking from her nightmare, she decided to take a moonlit stroll. Hermione eventually ended up by the huge birch tree overlooking the pond, where she always settles herself whenever she would watch Harry and the Weasleys play Quidditch, carrying a short stack of parchment with her. Hermione conjured a blue ball of fire, one which she was famous for and hovered it near her, before settling by the clear patch of ground by the tree roots and leaning her back against the trunk.

Hermione drew her knees close to her chest, a position which she was doing more and more often while lost in her thoughts. All in all, Hermione has to admit that she was starting to have a bad week. The only good thing that happened this past three days was the fact, that every time she awoke from her nightmares, it was the only time she could fully concentrate on translating Beedle's manuscript. It actually helps with her nightmares, because translating requires her full mental faculties, leaving no room for anything else. But tonight, she was already done with the transcription. She let out a long exhale, her breath clouding up before her. Hermione stretched out her wand hand and pointed to the blue ball of flame hovering above her head, pulling it closer to her.

Hermione ran her hands absently along the leaves of the small stack of parchment which she placed right next to her, a rock on top of it, so that the wind won't scatter the papers everywhere. She was staring up at the full moon before her, it was poetic really, how it shone brightly on the surface of the still pond before her, but sadly lost on Hermione, since her mind was wandering aimlessly, but always going back to the manuscript beside her. It was troubling her, and Hermione was done over thinking things. How she wishes that she could just go back to a time that was simple. _Wishes, huh_? Wishes by itself is overly simple enough, but to acquire an actual wish, that was another matter entirely. Hermione knew that it had been staring her in the face for sometime now, it was what Fleur wanted wasn't it? To obtain a wish, but how was she, Hermione would be able to do that for Fleur, to help the older witch, it seemed like all the puzzle pieces were already laid before her, but it's just that she wasn't getting the entire picture. And to top it all off, she and Fleur were the biggest pieces of the puzzle, but as to how they fit together, Hermione knew, but to accept it as it is, is another thing. Merlin knows, how she had thought endlessly about the answer to Fleur's question, _Have you ever considered the idea, that you could mean more to me than just a friend? _In truth, Hermione had considered the idea, a couple of ideas in fact, but was she ready? The answer was a resounding no, that was for sure, for now, but what about tomorrow? She needed Fleur, it was a fact, however she tries to get around it, but as to what extent, Hermione doesn't really want to accept it. She wasn't in denial, really, but how else could she preserve what little simplicity she was luxurious to have?

Another forlorn sigh, Hermione still staring at the moon. Maybe if she stares long enough, even glare at it, the answers to all the hundred different version of the same question would materialize before her. It seemed that the moon, was taunting her, waiting for her to make her move and follow through. "That's just bloody stupid," she murmured. She hugged herself even tighter, forcing herself to keep warm, her eyes glossing over at the still pond before her.

"I see you," a voice said softly from behind.

_Typical, _Hermione thought, s_ooner or later, this was bound to happen, but why do I get a feeling of déjà vu?_. This has happened before, only that the circumstances were different, it was simpler then, Hermione needed a friend and it was Fleur who was there for her, but now, now.. Hermione has no idea. "Hey, you," Hermione answered.

Fleur moved right next to Hermione and sat down next to the younger witch, before Hermione could have reacted or said anything, a shawl was being draped over her shoulders. She gave a grateful sigh as warmth flooded her shoulders. Hermione made a side glanced at Fleur, expecting the older woman to chide her for being careless or going out without wearing anything to keep her warm, but was thankful when the older woman didn't say anything of the kind. Instead, Hermione saw Fleur cradling the small stack of parchment that the younger witch brought with her, Hermione's translation of Beedle's tale on her lap.

"It's cold out here, you should be inside."

"I know," Hermione made a simple gesture towards the moon, "but the moon was calling me, I couldn't resist."

If Fleur thought that Hermione had gone mental, she didn't show it. Instead, the older woman redirected her gaze on the moon and then back on the parchment on her lap. "The Tale of the Maiden and the Moon," Fleur read.

"Beedle's unpublished story, I finished translating it, I know, you've read it already, but would you mind reading it to me?"

Fleur just looked at her curiously.

"Sometimes, it helps me figure out things, when I hear the same thing from someone else." In truth, Hermione had already committed the story in her memory, it was just probably an excuse to get any uncomfortable silence away from them which was bound to happen any time soon. Hermione knew, that if she had gone on long enough with her wandering thoughts, Fleur would definitely sense those wave of emotions coming off of her, therefore affecting the older witch. And Hermione has enough to deal with as of the moment, without throwing any of Fleur's veela tendencies into the mix.

If Hermione thought, that Fleur was going to say no, she was mistaken, Hermione thought that the older woman would force her to go back inside and acquiesce her request once in the warmth of the kitchen, but instead, "Alright, would you move the light nearer to me?"

Hermione once again stretched out her wand hand, and moved the flaming blue ball somewhere between them just a little behind Hermione's right shoulder and Fleur's left. As soon as she had done so, Fleur began reading in her soft contra alto melodious tones.

"_In all my travels in search of stories, this is one story that is extremely magical in nature unlike any I have heard told before. A kind of magic, that has been known, but to understand it will take a hundred lifetimes to do so, a powerful kind of magic, that to stand before it, is comparable to an ant standing beside an elephant. Like most of my stories, that ends in a happy note, this story, well it doesn't really end or maybe it does. I leave you, my readers, to decide. This is for you my, Naia. Forever yours, Beedle._"

"Naia, the same name from my memory," Hermione murmured when Fleur finished reading the dedication. Hermione shifted her gaze, only to find Fleur looking at her, Hermione made a soft sigh and then gestured for Fleur to continue.

"_Like all fairy tales, this starts with a once upon a time. __Once upon a time, there was a maiden who was loved by the moon._" Hermione closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Fleur's voice as she tells the story of the beautiful maiden who was cursed, because she could never return the affection of a powerful dark wizard who had courted her for years. How the maiden was forced to love the wizard and eventually ended with the wizard killing the maiden. How the moon took pity on the maiden and therefore granting the maiden one wish. A wish, that would forever change the direction of Fate's Wheels towards a veela's love. How the maiden resurfaced from the spring in which she had almost drowned and how the maiden had lived a long life after that.

Hermione opened her eyes, sensing that the older woman's gaze was upon her. The air by the pond had grown cooler, the last half an hour that they had been there. "It's the story of the first veela, isn't it?" Hermione asked as soon as Fleur finished reading the last paragraph of Hermione's translation of the tale.

"_Oui_, but I—," Fleur trailed off.

"You were wondering how Beedle could have known of it, when the true veela history is being passed, from generation to generation orally."

Fleur noted that Hermione hadn't asked a question, but what the younger witch had said was true, didn't she said so herself, on another night like this one, three summers ago? "_Oui_, Beedle wasn't a veela, and it is impossible for him to even have a trace of veela blood in him, not unless you were born from a fifteenth generation of a veela family, that's when all traces of veela blood begin to die out."

"Oh, that's very interesting to know," Hermione's insatiable thirst for knowledge perked up when she heard of this.

"No male child is born with a veela blood and when a male child is born, the veela would know that that her blood has died out in that generation," Fleur added.

"Hmmm," Hermione answered, "can you not think of any other reason on how Beedle could have known of it?"

"There is only one other reason I can think of," Fleur said, silently agreeing with the younger witch.

"And it may surprise you, that if indeed we are thinking of the same reason, that we would be right."

"How so?"

Hermione pointed at the manuscript which Fleur was still holding. "There were two parts to the story, the first one, was the one you had just read to me and the other was the unfinished one." Hermione saw Fleur, removing the top page of the stack of parchment on her lap, and placing it at the bottom of the pile. Her eyes darting quickly, on the words that Hermione had translated. "No, when I think about it, the second story is finished, it's just that we are missing the beginning of the second story. You probably didn't notice it the time, since the dedication was written after the first story. Would you mind continuing?"

"_Non_, not at all," Fleur answered. She took a breath and began reading again.

"'_How does this end?' The veela asked the dying wizard._

"_'Would that I would tell you, if I knew.'_

"_'Surely my love, you must know of something, of anything, you have travelled far and wide. You have seen and heard things that I do not know of, please—' Her beautiful face was etched with so much desperation and anguish that the wizard's heart was breaking __along with this beautiful creature which was his to call his own._

"_'Perhaps, a wish?'_

"_'Wishes comes at a price that is terrible to pay, if I had known it will change the Wheels of Fate, I would not have wished for this life.'_

"_'If you hadn't, then I would have never known you.'_

"_'And I, you.'_" Fleur finished, she was frowning at the page before her. "So, the dedication from before was written for this second story."

"Yes," Hermione said. "So, what do you think, Fleur? How did it end? Did the wizard and the veela got their wish?"

"I think you know the answer to your question, Hermione."

"Yes, but I want to know yours."

"Same as yours, I think."

"And that is?"

"No, I don't think they got their wish, because if they did, the story would not have been finished that way, and if they indeed had their wish, the story would maybe even tell us how to acquire one."

Hermione shook her head while glancing at Fleur, Hermione could see the questioning look on the older woman's face. "I think they got their wish, and the first story did tell us how to acquire one."

"If so, then that would mean that the wizard in the second story should have lived."

"No, he still died, Beedle died before he or Naia could have made the wish. Or if I think about it another way, Beedle died, without making a wish even if they had a wish to make. And on that note, this is why, I think the story is complete, he did intend for his readers to form their own conclusion. It's always like that with his tales. Or if you want, the next thing to do is to find the missing pages, if one is having a hard time to form a conclusion of his own."

"Then all this effort is for nothing."

"Nothing? How can you say that?"

"I am not satisfied with this ending at all. Its too ridiculous to be even called an ending, sure Beedle stumbled upon the story of the first veela, but the way he wrote it would make a veela wonder if the veela in this story is even Naia."

"It is Naia, he mentioned her name in his dedication. You're clearly upset, why?"

"I refuse to believe that Naia just gave up on him, that she let him die just like that."

"She didn't let him die just like that, she let him go. There's a difference. I think Beedle accepted his fate gladly."

"And how can you accept death that gladly? They didn't even struggle and that is just too hard to accept."

"They did struggle, until Beedle's last breath. To love and be loved like that, you can't ask for anything more."

"What about life Hermione? Is life so little to you, that you would even accept it just as it is."

"It's not, but Fleur don't you see, how can you save someone who can't be saved? Even if you struggle, but in the end you would lose, how can you possibly do that?"

"You would never understand."

"Maybe I never will, because you wouldn't even try to let me understand. It's exhausting, Fleur. It's exhausting to second guess everything that comes with you. I can only second guess so much."

"Then I beg you Hermione, don't."

"I'm often told, that when it comes to myself I am always oblivious, but not right now, when my whole being is screaming at me to accept what I don't want to feel."

"And what is it that you don't want to feel?"

"That I know that you are drawn to me as much as I am drawn to you. That the stronger I resist it, the deeper I need to be right next to you and the harder I fight it, the faster I fall. I just want you to be honest with me, I know there is something that you want to say to me, but for the life of me I can't figure out why you won't."

"Because it's better if you don't know."

Hermione stood up and as soon as she had done so, a rush of vertigo overflowed her, it was predictable really that as soon as she felt herself swaying, Fleur was immediately at her side steadying her. As much as Hermione would have relished that needed contact with the older witch, the brunette pushed the blond away, anger clearly evident on her brown eyes. She wheeled around forcing herself to face the older witch who was looking at the grassy ground beneath their feet.

"And if I tell you, _I love you_, would that change your mind?" Hermione asked acid dripping from her tones.

Fleur looked up, surprise that Hermione even said those words, even if Fleur noted the way Hermione said _I love you_, it didn't stop Fleur from daring to hope that maybe something can still be done, even though, everything in her was telling the younger witch to stop herself. Nothing good, will ever come out of it, nothing good always comes from when a mate of a veela, returns her affections. It always was and always will be a tragedy.

"No," Fleur finally answered. "It is better this way, so just leave it alone, Hermione, please."

"You don't know how much I want to, because contrary to what you think, I understand perfectly. I know and feel for a fact that this is hurting you more than it is hurting me. And do you know what part I hate the most, is that every time I can finally understand you, you pull away. This is like a game to you, isn't it? A game that you alone knows all the rules."

"You have no idea what you're saying."

"Really, if I don't, so why am I the only one whose being honest right now?"

"Because I don't want you to go there. I can't do it like this, and I want it to stop, I want both of us to stop. I don't want you to fall anymore than you have to, so please—"

"Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because I can't—"

"Cant—? Won't—? Don't—? Well, what is it Fleur? Make up your bloody mind! Everything that you had shown me, is bloody way too different from everything that you're saying now! If you have any feelings for me at all, if you even love me, just say it, because—"

"It's because I cannot love you! That's why I never want you to—"

"Then I dare you to love me!" Hermione answered back almost as quickly, she didn't wait for Fleur to say anything, it's because Hermione ran away, before Fleur could see the tears streaming down her face. How had a perfectly quiet evening by the pond ended up like this?


	7. Six

**DEFYING GRAVITY**

FD/HG

**A/N: **Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

anon – thanks for pointing out the tenses, much appreciated, I'll try to re edit the whole thing (^_^), but I guess I really do need to look for a beta just to have a second opinion (any takers? ^_^), my punctuations are bad enough as it is.. T_T

Err, it's a really long chapter, to make up for the previous chapter I guess, no, I wasn't really planning for this chapter to be this long, the longest one I think, hopefully you guys read it all the way through and still like it. (^_^)

Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.

**Six**

If Hermione had the premonition last night, no it was actually in the wee hours of the morning when _it_ happened, that she was starting to have a bad week, well, she couldn't have been more wrong. Hermione was starting to have a terrible week. Hermione was already in a sour mood when she came in that morning, because of the fact, that she wasn't sleeping normally due to that accursed nightmare she was having every night now, and add to that with what happened earlier, the one wherein she made her unexpected outburst, Hermione should've been awarded for coming in to work at all. Of course, it doesn't always happen that way, what does anyway? So, Hermione started with a meeting with Malfoy, updating him with the progress she and Fleur had made so far, which of course ended in an almost screaming match as usual, very unprofessional really, if Hermione hadn't taken a hold of herself that time. It wasn't Malfoy to blame actually, the man was being unusually considerate, maybe its because of how she looked, but something about Malfoy, was just rubbing her the wrong way and it was annoying her so much that it was all she could do to not jinx the man right on the spot. And if that wasn't enough, Fleur was everywhere in the Department; in the corridors, in the offices, in the Library, in the Hall of Prophecy, even in the Death Chamber where Hermione accidentally took a wrong turn after leaving Malfoy's office in a flurry of robes. How hard is it to ask, to be left alone, even for just an hour?

Hermione knew that it was wrong of her, no, not wrong but extremely rude to blatantly avoid Fleur like that, her parents certainly raised her to do better, but Hermione just couldn't help it. She knew she had to apologize, it was the right thing to do, brave even, but the words just seem to get caught in her throat, besides why should she even apologize, she did nothing wrong, or did she? What was so wrong with her that Fleur had to spell it out for her that Fleur cannot love her? _No, that's not it, _her rational thinking said suddenly. _Nothing is wrong with you and you know it. In fact the way Fleur sees you, is nothing short of perfect. _How can that be? If so, then why is she feeling this way, like she had grown a pair of extra limbs? Hermione let out a disgusted sigh. _You know why, all you have to do is to accept and admit it, then say it to make it more real than it already is._

"Say what exactly?" Hermione muttered angrily, as she pushed open the door back to the circular room. Hermione was on her way back to the Library after taking a few materials she needed from her cubicle, to resume her search for Beedle's missing pages. It was like looking for a needle in haystack mind you, and it wasn't helping her mood at all. Hermione automatically closed her eyes, as she reached the middle of the room, her mind resuming her train of thoughts, as the room started spinning around her.

Yes, Hermione already figured out that what Fleur seeks is not an answer but a wish. She did promise Fleur three summers ago, that she would help the older woman and she would. But the question is how to begin helping Fleur? Hermione also figured out, that Fleur desperately needed to save somebody, and that Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was the person that Fleur wanted to save. _That's completely mental, why would I need saving? I'm not in danger or— unless.. unless.. bloody hell.. _Hermione could feel the frown forming on her face. Hermione quickly recalled the bits and pieces of that summer, what was it that Fleur said about a veela's love? A veela cannot love her mate, because they kill the person they love.

It was at that moment, that Hermione almost stopped breathing because of the adrenalin that shot through her body. Hermione had to steel herself in order to stop herself from collapsing right on the spot. Hermione opened her eyes, grateful that the circular room had stopped spinning when she did, as she fought hard to control her breathing, but it was useless, Hermione was already hyperventilating. Hermione broke out in a cold sweat, it was an unpleasant feeling, to feel the walls of the circular room closing in on her, she was feeling trapped and it didn't help that the Department of Mysteries was located far below underground. _Oh, Merlin_, her frantic thoughts raced. _Fleur cannot love me because... _"I'm her _Mate_," Hermione gasped out. _I need to get out, I can't breathe._

Hermione's ears were ringing as oxygen was steadily being depleted from her overworked brain. She was feeling faint and was almost doubled over, when she spotted the bright red orange mark on the door at her nine o'clock side. Hermione's knees were shaking, making her stagger as she burst through the marked door. It took, Hermione a couple of seconds to recognized where she was, and was thankful that her wandless and wordless magic worked. Hermione stumbled, half sprinting, half walking along the dimly lit corridor towards the golden lifts which were located at the end. How Hermione had managed to ride the agonizingly slow lift up to the Atrium, she didn't know. The need to get out, to get some open air, was tantamount to her being, that when she half fell out of the lifts, she didn't noticed the curious looks that some of the Ministry workers who were loitering in the Atrium cast her way. Hermione didn't even acknowledged the familiar voice who called her, as she raced her way to the apparation spot which seemed like a thousand miles away. As soon as Hermione's feet landed on the spot, she turned on her heel, dimly aware that a hand touched her shoulder as she vanished and reappeared on top of a hill.

Cold and wet, those were her first sensations when she arrived. Hermione took a deep breath, and as soon as she did so, she finally doubled over, and threw up the remnants of what little breakfast she happened to have had. Hermione was still heaving her stomach out, when she felt a hand stroking her back, and another reaching over to hold up her hair for her.

"There, there," a soothing and familiar voice said all the while still caressing her back up and down.

Hermione was still bent over, as another wave of gagging course through her, if throwing up her breakfast wasn't enough, she also had to throw up the bile that was in her stomach. As soon as she had emptied her stomach, Hermione straightened up slowly, her breathing coming out in short and ragged rhythms.

"Hermione," the voice said, it was laced with worry.

Hermione tried to speak and found that she was having difficulty, until she felt strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her back to the voice's chest.

"Hey, hey, relax, breathe slowly, breathe with me."

Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating on the rising and falling of the chest that was pressing her back, slow and steady, the gentle rain steadily pelting down on their heads. "That— was— dange— rous—" Hermione gasped out in between breaths, finally recognizing who the voice belonged to. "You could've— splinched yourself—" she added, her breathing painstakingly and slowly returning to normal.

"I know, remind me to never go on a side-along apparation with you," Harry answered a faint smile on his face. "You feeling better?"

"No, just— just—," Hermione stammered.

"You know, Ginny would raise a fuss if she found us like this."

"There is nothing— remotely— romantic about this," Hermione murmured.

"Yeah, well, considering the vomit pooled at our feet, very romantic indeed." Harry answered, Hermione could feel her best friend's chest rumbling as he chuckled. "Where are we anyway?"

"Stoatshead Hill."

"I thought, it looked familiar," Harry said looking around, his worry starting to fade away, as he could feel Hermione's breathing return to normal. He waited a few more minutes, then asked, "Better?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, moving away from Harry, while carefully avoiding stepping on her vomit.

"Now, why don't we go down to the village, yeah? You can buy me a bottle of warm butterbeer," he said while holding out his hand.

Hermione grimaced as she took hold of Harry's hand, and as soon as she did, she felt herself being squeezed, in what feels like through a tube of toothpaste.

**xxxXXXxxx**

If Hermione and Harry had lingered a second more longer, they would have eventually been caught in the downpour. They were in one of the establishments, located near the end of the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, an establishment which most of the muggle inhabitants of the village avoided because of its ill repute, when in actuality, it is a small family oriented pub for wizards and wicthes. It has a warm and cozy feel to it, albeit a little rustic for Hermione's tastes. But she has to admit, they serve a delicious treacle tart, which was Harry's favorite kind of dessert.

"Find us a seat, will you?"

"I thought I was buying," Hermione said, while running her fingers through her brown tresses.

"Nah, I was just kidding," Harry said smiling as he weaved his way towards the counter.

Hermione spotted an open seat by the window and made her way towards it, stopping to smile and greet at the few wizards and witches who waved at her, she is famous after all. Hermione sat down heavily, after finally excusing herself from an old wizard who began talking about his grandchildren. Hermione stared out the window, the rain coming down in torrents, limiting her vision to only about two feet. She tore her gaze away, only to place her face on her hands, all the while thinking, _I'm Fleur's Mate, I'm Fleur's Mate, I'm Fleur's Mate, _maybe if she say it over and over again in her head, it would probably go away and then she'd wake up from this dream that she was having. If it were only that easy, _Why am I so afraid? _Hermione wondered suddenly, _Oh yeah, maybe its because of that little bit, that you'd die if you even give Fleur half a chance._

"'Mione?" Harry asked, interrupting her train of thoughts.

Hermione looked up, Harry had already seated himself opposite her, looking at her with worry on his face again. When Hermione didn't say anything, he took a long swagger of his butterbeer, waiting for Hermione to say something, anything. Harry always had the sense to hold his tongue, unless there's a need to, so he waited until Hermione had composed her own thoughts. She reached for the warm bottle of butterbeer and stared at her distorted reflection on the amber colored bottle. "How badly do I look?" she asked, still staring at the bottle, talking to her own reflection.

"Hmm, not so bad, still the same pale look that you've been sporting this past couple of weeks, which I must say doesn't agree with you."

"Oh," Hermione murmured, taking a tentative sip of her butterbeer, her stomach still doing somersaults after her retching episode.

"So," Harry began. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to use my interrogation techniques to get you to talk."

"You would resort to that?" Hermione said looking up, fixing Harry with her curious stare, figuring Harry probably half meant it if she didn't spill her guts out, figuratively speaking of course.

"I would if I have to," Harry answered seriously.

"Where do I begin?" Hermione wondered. She shifted her gaze back to the window, her thoughts going back to that jarring realization she had earlier. Hermione felt lost and she hated it, one of the things that she prided herself in was being sure about almost all things, she was never wrong mind you. But this thing with Fleur, how does she even begin to deal. Well, she had dealt with it before, because she had always accounted herself to have a strong rational mind, which couldn't be swayed easily, and partnered that with her stubbornness, plus a little bit of luck, was how she wasn't affected by Fleur's veela thrall, right? But after her realization, it throws everything into question, so going back, where does Hermione begin? How would she explain to Harry the things that were happening to her, without divulging the confidentiality of her work, thinking about it now, what she does for the Department is too closely related to whatever thing that she and Fleur has. _I'm the reason why Fleur left a thriving career in Gringotts._

"It's easy," Harry answered, pulling Hermione back to their conversation, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "You start with saying, I'm in love with Fleur Delacour and I'm carrying her child."

Hermione's jaw dropped at Harry's banter and before she could say something as damaging back, Harry began guffawing so hard that he was snorting out the drink he had just had, causing the wizards and witches in the pub to give them a mixture of amused and affronted looks.

"Hahaha," Hermione said, sarcasm dripping from her tones, "very funny, Potter."

"Sorry, 'Mione, I couldn't resist not saying it, well maybe not that bit about being pregnant, that was too much, but you should have seen the look on your face," Harry's laughing now reduced to chuckling. "I could just see it you know, little runts with silver blond hair and deep brown eyes or brunettes with blue eyes, with names like, Dominique or Victoire, very French-ish I would imagine."

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said, a warning on every syllable when she said her best friend's name. "Even if that were true, it's biologically impossible for two women to conceive children. I can only imagine what perverted thoughts, swam in that scarred head of yours, honestly, do you have to act like Ron now?"

"Hey, hey, don't insult the scar," he said, raising a hand in surrender while patting the other over his bangs, making sure that his lightning shaped scar was still hidden. "It just made me wonder, I mean, what's up with you, when we were up the hill, it certainly seemed like morning sickness to me."

Hermione's jaw dropped again, it was the second time that Harry had made her done so within the hour, but this time she recovered quickly. "It's not, I had an anxiety attack," she whispered.

"Wai— what?" Harry answered. His face turning serious again, when he noted the despaired and drawn out look on his best friend's face, something he wasn't accustomed to, sure Hermione worried a lot, but never like this.

"I panicked, alright," Hermione snapped.

"I get that, but why?"

"Oh, Harry, it's truly confusing me," Hermione said, throwing up her hands in frustration. "It would just confuse you too, so just leave it alone, okay?"

"Try me," he said. "I'm not as daft as Ron you know, to Ron it could be just that he enjoyed mercilessly teasing you about Fleur because he thinks that you like Fleur, but to me, that's not it, you love her, 'Mione, and don't tell me otherwise, I know you well enough, to know that what I'm saying is true."

Hermione leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms before her, she looked like a little girl who was about to have a tantrum because she was not getting a toy that she wanted. "I hate it when you get all perceptive like that," she muttered.

"You only hate it, when it's being thrown your way," Harry corrected.

Hermione let out a defeated sigh, she knew that Harry was not going to let her off that easy, and besides, it's high time, she talks to one of her best friends about it, and Harry's the best choice, between him, Ron and Ginny. "Do you truly think I'm in love with Fleur?"

Harry regarded Hermione carefully, and then said, "Yes, took you long enough to admit it though. Honestly, 'Mione, you do give good advice, but when it comes to you, you actually don't see it even when it comes dancing in front you, like Buckbeak wearing a neon pink tutu, complete with laces and frills."

Hermione smiled at the image that involuntarily popped in her head.

"And Fleur clearly loves you too," Harry added. "The first time that I saw Fleur act that fiercely around someone she cares about, was at the second task during the Triwizard Tournament, you know when she failed to save Gabby. She definitely acts that way around you all the time, you should have seen her after you fell unconscious."

Hermione frowned, she was starting to have that strange sense of foreboding again, the one that she's had, for as long as she can remember. "When was that?"

"The drinking party George hosted."

"Yeah," Hermione answered slowly, how can she forget, it was the first night she had that terrible nightmare. "But I don't remember falling unconscious."

"It was after you asked Fleur to dance with you, don't you remember?"

"I don't dance if I can help it, much less asked someone to dance with me, you know that, Harry."

"Nuh-uh, you were amazing, I never even knew you could move that way," Harry said, drifting off suddenly, recalling the events of that night.

"Harry," Hermione said, but her best friend ignored her. "Harry!" She said a little louder without attracting too much attention, but still Harry kept on ignoring her, a glaze look on his brilliant green eyes. "Honestly," Hermione muttered completely annoyed, so she pointed her wand on Harry's arm and produced a little zap of magical current, making Harry jumped on his seat.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, "what'd you do that for?" He said, while rubbing the red welt on his arm, where Hermione zapped him.

"Could you not be affected by Fleur's veela thrall, by just recalling an event, please it's annoying," she said, irritated with her best friend.

"What? Sorry, I'm not usually affected, but there are days that it catches me off guard," he muttered darkly.

"What days?" Hermione was almost too afraid to ask.

"I can't remember the exact days, but the one I can strongly recall, was that time, when Dobby apparated us to Shell Cottage."

"Oh that time," Hermione said softly to herself. If she recalls that time too, the only time the veela thrall dissipated in the air was when she made that crazy promise to Fleur that she wouldn't get herself unnecessarily hurt. Hermione shifted on her seat uncomfortably, "Harry, you said that Fleur loves me too." It wasn't really a question, and Harry could hear the strained notes when Hermione said that.

"Yes, because it's true."

Hermione's frown deepened when Harry acknowledged her statement. "That's the problem, Harry, it's because Fleur feels the same way about me."

"I don't understand, shouldn't you be feeling the opposite? I mean usually, you'd be jumping up and down with joy when the person you love, loves you back. I'm fine with you being gay, I think Ron will too, I'm not sure about Ginny though, if that's what's bothering you."

"I— I— to be honest, I've never even thought of that."

"Eh?"

"Yes, because it's nothing compared to with what I'm facing right now. And now that you mentioned it, I might as well throw it into this truly mess up situation that I find myself in." Then, Hermione began muttering to herself, which Harry could only make out when Hermione's volume increases, broken sentences with words like, "—unbelievable!" or "It's hopeless—" then, "Why me?" Hermione only stopped when she saw Harry's perplexed expression, he had a face in which he was trying to decide whether to laugh or to haul Hermione into a mental hospital, "What?" she snapped again.

"You're becoming more and more like an Unspeakable every time I see you," was all Hermione got in response.

"I am an Unspeakable, Harry," she muttered again.

"Yeah, but never fully, until you begin talking to yourself. Remember those blokes we escorted to Transylvania back when we were still Aurors-in-Training? We thought they were talking to each other, until Ron pointed out, that they were speaking to themselves."

"Oh," Hermione said leaning forward, cradling her face in her hands once more. "You think I'm a loon then."

"No, of course not," Harry said reaching forward and hooking a finger under Hermione's chin causing Hermione to raise her head. She stared at Harry's brilliant green eyes, there was comfort there, making Hermione sense that whatever she was about to tell Harry, that there will be no judgement or whatsoever.

"Alright," she began, she took a deep breath and sat back. "I think, I might be dying or something like that." Harry raised his eyebrows at this, in which Hermione took as a sign to go on. "You did say that you are affected by Fleur's veela thrall, right?" Harry nodded at this. "Well, I am too, just that I'm being affected differently than every one else." So, Hermione began telling Harry, as best as she could all that had happened, beginning from the time she started working with Fleur at the Department of Mysteries. She began explaining, what happens to her every time Fleur loses control and begins to veela out.

"You feel faint?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione nodded, "The thing is, I have never been sick my entire life, until now. Perhaps, the common cold, but nothing serious, wizards and witches, has a much stronger constitution than the average muggle, you know this."

"Errr, yeah. And then?"

Hermione continued to describe the signs whenever she has an episode, headaches, nausea and unbelievable weakness. She described it like, something a dementor's kiss would do, sapping out her life force, but different, because her soul rather than leaving her body, sings to her like it is the best thing that could have ever happened. "Which is sick by the way," Hermione added. She went on to tell about the night in the alley, which ended in Fleur almost assaulting her if she hadn't calmed herself down or else she would have gave in, Hermione noted Harry's red face as she described to him, what had happened when Fleur pushed her to the ground. "Harry, have you ever seen Fleur whenever she begins to veela out?"

The scarred young man shrugged his shoulders. "It's in the air, isn't it? I mean, it's always too late to notice, because I would be under the spell already, I'd only realize it, that I was under the spell after the thrall has disappeared." Harry ended, there was that familiar expression on his face, the one that he puts on whenever he was working something out and putting two and two together. "But you can tell, can you?"

"In excruciating detail," Hermione answered. "It starts with a shift in the air, barely noticeable, like how a barometer would shift whenever there is a change in the air currents." It was when Hermione realized after saying that, that she knew Fleur would begin to veela out, even before the older woman could. Hermione went on, describing the change of color in Fleur's eyes and that scent. Hermione never told anyone what she smells until now, whenever she sense Fleur's change, it was the smell of everything she loves, the scent of old books, her mum's baked brownies, vanilla ice cream, mint, the smell of ink drying on parchment until it would all turn into a sickeningly sweet smell, making her suffocate until she'd get all annoyed and irritated and then she'd see clearly again, forcing her back into the present and it'll all happen in just a few seconds or a couple of minutes tops.

"Interesting," Harry murmured. "So it's the scent?" Hermione shrugged in response. "That's probably it, because now that you've described yours, whenever Fleur veela outs, as how you say it, I could distinctly smell Ginny's shampoo on her hair after she takes a shower, or chocolate frogs and treacle tart, sometimes the smell of the air that comes rushing past me, whenever I take a dive on my broomstick racing after the Snitch, but I don't get that sickeningly sweet smell, quite the opposite actually." Harry's face darkened as he remembered something, "Oh and blood and Voldemort, and Sirius' and Cedric's death, during that time in Shell Cottage."

"Shell Cottage again, huh?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. A moment of solemnity pass between them, honouring the dead. And then, "Voldemort has a smell?" Hermione asked barely keeping the incredulity out of her tone, she was trying hard not to giggle, "You took a sniff at him, really Harry? When?" Hermione added, finally bursting out in a fit of giggles, paying back Harry for his pregnancy comment earlier on.

"Really funny, 'Mione, at least I'm not the one who has contracted the _veela disease_."

That shut Hermione up, "_Veela disease?_"

"Yeah, let's call it that for now, the symptoms you're experiencing," he said, steering their conversation back. "There's more to it, right? I mean it doesn't happen to just anyone who meets a veela, because if it does, we'd have heard it before."

"You're right, it doesn't happen to just anyone. It only happens to a veela's chosen mate."

"You mean you're—"

"I don't know what I am, alright?"

"You don't or you know, but you just don't want it?"

"Even if I do, why would Fleur choose me? What would she ever see in me? I'm not anything special, I'm just— I'm just me," Hermione finished quietly.

"Exactly, it's because you're you that's why she chose you and you remain you when she veela outs. How many can you name who remains themselves in the presence of a veela, I mean Fleur's presence except for her family?"

"Do you know that Fleur hates it when she loses her control?" Hermione answered ignoring Harry's question, because the answer was too obvious, she can't name anyone else. Malfoy could've been right when he said that there were others out there for all they know, but to Fleur, there was only Hermione.

"And there you go, another reason why she chose you, it's because you can _see_ her."

"But how could she have known, Harry? She barely knew me, the first time we saw each other."

"Maybe she didn't, maybe it was the veela in her that knew you, even I know that veelas are highly sensitive to emotions, I remember how they were like during that Quidditch World Cup."

"You're making it sound like there are two beings living in Fleur's body, because if that were the case—" Hermione trailed off, a horrible thought forming in her head. _Oh Merlin, is this what Fleur would wish for? To kill the veela in her, so that she can free me, so that I wouldn't have to bear the veela's curse, but that's— that's—_

"Earth to 'Mione!" Harry said, interrupting her thoughts once again, he was waving his hand in front of her, trying to catch her attention, which he successfully did.

"Sorry, it's that—"

"'S okay, so the question is," Harry paused, taking a drink again from his bottle of butterbeer, "what are you going to do about it?"

"I really don't know, and what I've told you, its only just the half of it."

"Oh, tell me then, 'Mione," Harry urged.

"I'm not sleeping well, Harry."

"Another symptom of the veela disease? Insomnia?"

"No, I don't think so, ever since that Memorial, three summers ago, I haven't been sleeping well," Hermione stopped when he saw the concerned look on Harry's face, "it wasn't that bad then, but it's worse now. I used to have dreams of falling, but that's normal, I'm sure you've had your share too," she stopped again when she saw Harry nod, "but now, it's become a nightmare, I know it is, because every time I go to bed, I'm dreading to fall asleep."

"I've had my own nightmares too, but that's the thing 'Mione, its just dreams, they won't get you when you wake up."

"You're one to talk, sometimes nightmares aren't just nightmares, they could be real too." Hermione saw Harry involuntarily touched his scar, that was how she knew that Harry agreed to the point she was making. "I fear that if I fall, I won't wake up."

"But you're good at Occlumency, which I'm not, so—"

"That's the thing, even if I practice Occlumency, before I go to sleep, it doesn't work, besides Occlumency is a skill to prevent other wizards to enter your unguarded thoughts."

"Right, so what happens in this dream?"

That's when Hermione began describing to Harry, how her dreams began with her fall. How this bird-like creature, would taunt her to fly, until she would grow her own hideous set of wings and as soon as doing so, this creature would claw at her forcing her to fall fast and in her other dreams, as soon as she would regain balance using her wings, the creature would come at her with so much ferocity than before and each time before she wakes, the ground was coming closer and closer than ever, she was nearing the end of her fall. "I reckon, two or three more nightmares of those, I would eventually crashed, and I really don't want to find out what happens after I fall. It feels so bloody real, that I always wake up gasping for breath, my mouth open in a soundless scream."

"Aside from the veela disease, you're also having _veela dreams._"

"_Veela dreams_?"

"Yeah, do you know of any other woman who turns herself into a bird, when she feels extreme emotions?" Hermione shook her head, "So, that's why we're calling your nightmares veela dreams for now," Harry paused, he turned his head to look out the window, the rain had already let up a little, but it was still falling heavily for anyone with half a mind to go out into. He studied his best friend's face, who had followed where he was staring at moments ago, and noticed if it were even possible, the brunette had gone a shade paler after describing her nightmare. His concern deepening, it's true, he may not understand the whole thing really, but from his point of view, it was glaringly clear why Fleur could have chosen Hermione. His best friend, had indeed grown out of her bookish and geeky look, even Malfoy noticed that, but the one thing that remained was that Hermione was still as brilliant as ever. It's no wonder, why Fleur could have been drawn to Hermione. "Do you think you would turn into a veela? Maybe it's what your veela dreams are trying to tell you."

"Even if that were the case, it's impossible, you just don't turn into a veela and veelas aren't born either, their created. Besides, I wouldn't want to turn into one even if that is the only solution offered."

"Did you just say 'created'?"

"Yes, Fleur told me, I can't explain it really, sorry." Hermione turned to face Harry, he had this pondering look on him. "So, Mr. Try Me Because I'm Not Daft Like Ron," Harry smiled at that, "what do I do?"

"You still don't know?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be here."

He sighed, it was amazing how stubborn Hermione can be. Harry already had the suspicion that his best friend already knew and that she had already decided on what to do but only that she was afraid to do it. That is so un-Gryffindor like, then again Gryffindors are allowed to get scared once in awhile, so he decided it was up to him to make Hermione see some sense. "Kiss her," was all he said.

"Are you insane?"

"No, listen, 'Mione," he began, "it may sound insane right now, but that's how you will know. Which goes to my other point, you already know what to do, you just can't decide if you should do it or not."

"How will kissing Fleur help?"

"Everything, I can't describe the feeling, but it's how I knew, that I should hunt the Horcruxes after I kissed Ginny after Dumbledore's funeral. It's how I knew that Ginny meant everything to me, that I couldn't bear for her to live in a mess up world. I was terrified of course, you knew my fear because we had nothing to go on, but it's what kept me going. I'd rather die trying than live knowing that I haven't given it my best shot." He stopped, then fixed Hermione on the spot with his brilliant green eyes. "Right now, you're only half of the Hermione I know. The Hermione I know, wouldn't stop finding her answers, just because she's sick or scared, the Hermione I know is brilliant without a doubt and she would certainly throw a fuss, if she finds out that you're wasting all that talent, and that you're cowering instead, what would she say to that, hmm?" He finished making a _tsk tsking_ sound.

"On second thought, I hate it more when you're being all smart and wise than you being perceptive," she answered a faint trace of a smile on her lips.

"Yeah, well, that's because I could be brilliant like you and you're being jealous," He chuckled and then turned serious again. "I have faith in you, 'Mione, I know you can find a cure to this rare veela disease that you have."

"That makes one of us, Harry, then again, I get it when you said that you'd rather die trying. I'm still not sure, but I do feel better even if it's just a little bit."

"That's good to know, so," he said, slapping his hand on the table and peering outside and noting that the rain had slowed down to a trickle, "I think it's time we should head back to the Ministry, before we get caught in another downpour."

"Right," Hermione agreed, following Harry to the back of the pub where they could apparate. They both smiled and waved to the other wizards and witches as they made their way through. Hermione unaware that she began chuckling to herself.

"If I thought you weren't a loon before, I reckon I just changed my mind."

"What?"

"Just now, you were laughing to yourself and I don't know why."

"Oh that, earlier when you teased me about being pregnant, I just remembered," she said.

"What?" Harry asked, curious.

"Honestly, Harry, where'd you come up with those names? Dominique and Victoire..." Harry just gave a sheepish grin in response then turned on his heel and disapparated which Hermione followed suit.

**xxxXXXxxx**

Hermione's eyes were dead tired, the words before her were already swimming in a blur. It wasn't just her eyes that were tired, everything about her was fatigued, her brain, her body, even her own emotions were already stretched to their limit, but she knew she had to go on. If Hermione had decided earlier on that she would help Fleur, now she was dead set on it. If Fleur wanted a wish, then she would do everything in her power to acquire one, however impossible it may be. So, that's how Hermione had decided to spend the rest of her day, she had been reading and researching everything she could find about Jinns, the only problem was, nothing she found was useful. She had just read about a hundred different versions about the origin and history of Jinns, but nothing about how to acquire a single wish. The only thing all the literature had in common that Hermione had managed to find about Jinns, was that they do have the power to grant _any_ wish. _And what if Fleur's wish was to indeed kill the veela within her? _Hermione thought suddenly. _Then I'd just kill her, save us all this trouble to begin with, _Hermione answered darkly. _No, you wouldn't. Of course not! _

"I'm not even thinking right," she let out an exasperated sigh. She leaned her head back on the bookshelf behind her and then closed her eyes. _I'll just rest my eyes... ten seconds, one, two, no, five minutes... just five... min... _And then, Hermione was falling again.

It was the same dream, but this time the creature did not appear. If in Hermione's previous dreams, it was taking her a long time to fall, this time it was fast, blindingly fast, her heart beating violently making her chest ache by it's erratic rhythm, and screaming soundlessly was all Hermione can do, the ground coming up faster and faster, any moment now, she was going to hit it and that she would probably never wake up, until...

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up! Please..."

Hermione's eyes flew open suddenly, she could almost feel her eyeballs rolling back in their sockets, making her vision swam out of focus. At first, Hermione thought that she was staring at the inky blackness of her dream, but then her focus finally returning, she realized that she was staring into Fleur's dark eyes, their faces only inches apart. Hermione could also distinctly feel the talons, which were supposed to be Fleur's fingers digging into her shoulders painfully and was faintly aware that the woman was drawing blood. Hermione prayed that she was still having that dream, but no, this was real, Fleur had veela'd herself out, as to why, Hermione didn't know. It was even impossible for Fleur to be here, because the last time she checked, Fleur was still with Malfoy, they were in an inter departmental meeting, which Harry had managed to dodge by accidentally going on a side-along apparation with her.

"Why are you here?" Hermione choked out, her heart still beating erratically, as she tried to get up from the stool she was sitting on, clutching the edges of the shelves behind her to support her weight.

Fleur's grip on her shoulder slackened, and Hermione was right to assume that the older woman had indeed drawn blood, because if there were any other Unspeakable with them, that Unspeakable would have been a goner, they would have utterly lost it the moment they took in Fleur's thrall, how else can the brunette explain this atmosphere, Fleur had hurt her unintentionally so. If it's even more possible, Fleur's eyes had gone a shade darker than they already were and for a moment, Hermione had half expected to see Fleur sprout a pair of wings, which Hermione hasn't seen before in all the time that the French part-veela had veela'd out before her. Fleur leaned back and straightened up slowly, in which Hermione grasped the opportunity to stagger a few feet away, well as far away as she could without seeming to aggravate the veela before her even more.

"I thought I lost you, you were gone for a full minute until I felt your fear," Fleur answered, half hissing, half whispering, she was staring at the spot where Hermione had been, and then she whipped up her head so fast, staring at Hermione's direction. "Do not, ever do that again," still that half hissing, half whispering sounding voice.

A shiver passed Hermione, by all rights, Hermione should be terrified, she should be running away as fast as she can. But her terror was of a different kind upon seeing Fleur like this, it was as if Hermione's sense had flown out the nearest window, she knew that she should not push a button, but hey, call it a moment of relapse or instincts or whatever, but it was what Hermione did. "Am I not allowed to doze off even for a measly five minutes?" She said, Hermione would have crossed her arms before her as she usually does, whenever she was feeling annoyed, if not for the fact that she was using one of them to grasp the edge of a shelf to support her weight. "Now that you see that I'm alright, would you mind leaving me alone?" _What are you doing? _Her brain screamed at her, making her grimaced. _Do you have a death wish or something, Fleur's all about ready to kill you! _"Please," Hermione found herself saying as if her words before aren't enough. _She's killing me already, why should I stop?_

"No."

"Seriously, Fleur, I need you to go!" Hermione continued, maybe it was the combination of the nightmare she had woken up from and the pent up frustration and anger that had built up from the last few months and add to that the helplessness in the situation she was in, which Hermione feels all the time now and the realization of being Fleur's chosen mate that made her unable to control the temper that she was throwing out.

"I said, no."

"Why the bloody hell not? I don't want to see you! I don't want to talk to you! I don't even want to be anywhere near you!" Hermione's voice rising higher and higher with every sentence that she spoke.

"I hear what you're saying," Fleur began, the French witch had her eyes shut, trying to control herself, and it seemed to be working too, because her talons had receded and was now returning to the normal size and shape of her fingers, "but you don't mean it."

"What makes you bloody think that I don't?" Hermione taunted, very much like the creature in her dreams. When Fleur opened her eyes, Hermione could see that they had almost changed back to their normal hues though the outer rim of Fleur's orbs were still tinged in black, but there was pain too, so much so that it took every ounce of effort for Hermione to not rushed back to the older woman, who was standing so still like a forlorn statue of a Greek goddess to comfort her. _I have to do this, _she thought steeling her resolved.

"I told you, you can't lie to me," Fleur answered, her voice had also gone back to their normal contra alto tones although a little strained, it was as if Fleur was trying to control her temper, as so not to match Hermione's because it would be bad, very, very bad.

"That's really hilarious, Fleur. I can't lie to you, but you can lie to me? How is that fair?" Hermione challenged, grimacing as she felt the sharp pain on her shoulder where Fleur's talons had dug into her flesh, causing her to drop her arm from the shelf so that she can apply some pressure on the wound that was bleeding itself out.

"I never lied to you," Fleur said as calmly as she could, then paused, noting how the younger woman winced when Hermione took a step away from the bookshelf. "Hermione," Fleur gestured helplessly towards the young woman, "please will you let me—"

"Never?" Hermione cut off, she gritted her teeth, _Just a little longer, _she thought_._ "I remembered everything about that summer three years ago." They were now standing directly face to face a distance of several feet between them, it was like watching two wizards about to start a duel.

"Do you?" Fleur countered, she's had enough of Hermione's stubbornness, Merlin help her, if she had to drag Hermione kicking and screaming to St. Mungo's in order to get that shoulder looked at. "Because if our memories are the same, it seems to me that you promised me that you would help me!" Fleur flared up, her irritation winning against her better judgement.

"I know, and that's what I'm trying to do, even though you lied to me!" _Please, just be honest with me Fleur, _Hermione thought desperately. This was getting bad, the dark rings around Fleur's eyes which should have reduced by now, was now starting to dominate again.

"I never lied!"

"If you never lied, then what was that bloody bit when you said you never intended to find your mate? You could have just bloody told me!"

"That was the truth!" Fleur retorted, matching Hermione's volume. "I never intended to find my Chosen, I never intended to have found you. But somebody must really hate me, because I did," Fleur added then looked away from the brunette.

Hermione closed in the distance between them, taking a few tentative steps towards the French witch, ignoring the sharp bite of pain on her shoulder. If this was not a bad situation they were having, Hermione would have been probably fascinated with how the black and blue on Fleur's eyes fought to regain control. _There you are, _Hermione thought, seeing that it was the blue in Fleur's eyes that had won out. Another step, when Hermione froze because Fleur was looking at her again.

"Hermione, you _need_ to understand," Fleur began, fixing the younger witch with that deep blue stare of hers, this was it, Fleur knew that she could no longer fight it, damn the odds, the need to be with Hermione was so strong, that her words came out in a slew of French and English mixing together, hoping that the words that came out of her mouth would explain to the younger witch how she had felt and feels for Hermione all this years.

It's a good thing though that Hermione could understood French well enough and this was what she heard Fleur said: "Watching you is the only thing that I could do. Talking to you and being your friend is the next best thing to actually be with you. It kills me everyday, knowing that you are so near, but I could never reach you. I want you, so much so, that everyday whenever I wake up, to feel you waking up on the floor just above me, is a fresh pain, that I have to swallow before facing you. I wanted to be more. I wanted to wake up with you, not just for one day but everyday for as long as you'd want me to. I wanted to be right next to you, not just today, but for the rest of this cursed existence. I wanted you to want me, the way that I do, but I know that I can't ask for it, because I know that I can't want you, I could never want you, because I can't risk losing you. I would always choose you Hermione, always. I nearly damn went near to committing murder, when you showed up in my doorstep badly hurt. I had never wanted to kill anyone so much in my life, that I drove everyone in that house to near insanity. But you saw me, seeing you saw me, I knew that you would never want me to do any of that even though you never knew then why I wanted to. It was okay with me even though you never got it, because for you, it would always be okay for you to hurt me but I will never forgive myself if I hurt you." Fleur paused and then took a deep breath, "But still, I keep hurting you. Hermione, I never lied to you, I am so sorry that I keep on breaking my promises and I am so sorry that I never told you who you were to me because I thought that if you didn't know, that whatever we have right now, would last, even though I knew that it would never be enough for me, that I would have to settle for less. And if ever I lied, it was when I said that if ever I had found my mate I would run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. It's really hard to stay away from you, if you only knew how it feels like the first time I saw you, it was like the pull of gravity, that however much I try to go against it, to resist it, I end up wanting you more and more, needing you to be with me more and more. If you only knew and understood how much I feel for you, trust me when I say that I need you to push me away, because I know that it will cost me more than I could have bargained for. I know it is selfish, but like I have said before, I choose you. Believe it when I say, that I am trying my damnedest to move from this spot, but I can't, I know it's hard to believe because it's easy to take just one step back, but I can't, I really can't, it's because you want me here. It's not enough for you to say that you don't want me, you have to mean it, Hermione, really and truly mean it."

Hermione was reeling from all that Fleur had said, her nightmare feels like a long forgotten memory, the pain on her shoulder feels inconsequential and non existent compared to Fleur's pain. Oh, Hermione could have given them the release they both needed, to walk away, was the best answer for both of them, but Hermione also had that deep feeling that even if she did, somehow, something or someone would play another trick on them and eventually they would find their way back to each other, no matter the time or the distance they spend apart. It's annoying how Fate tends to work, however much one tries to defy it. For a moment, everything was a blur to her and the only clear thing that she can see were Fleur's deep blue eyes, pleading and begging with her to do as she was asked to do, Hermione only sighed, then took the remaining steps until she stopped a feet away from Fleur, the younger witch's face wearing a sad smile. "See Fleur, it's not that hard to be honest with me."

"Please, Hermione you have to do it, don't ask it of me," Fleur pleaded, searching the younger witch's face.

"You already know that I can't, and you know it's true."

"What you're asking for is too much, what you want is to disappear from my life."

"No Fleur," Hermione said shaking her head, her gaze never wavering from Fleur's eyes. "No one's disappearing and no one's dying either. That's just stupid and I'll prove it to you," Hermione noted that Fleur's eyes had retained their normal blue color which Hermione found a miracle after Fleur had just confessed to her, all those feelings that the older woman had bottled up all these years. "There you are, I see you." Hermione took a deep breath, "do you trust me?"

"I—" Fleur looked away then back again at her, "Yes, always."

"Kiss me."


End file.
